Rekindle
by ch.charlie
Summary: Post-HTTYD 3. The dragons have gone into hiding, and Hiccup laments. New Berk fights to protect their secret, but the forces of evil prevail, endangering Berk and the Hidden World. Hiccup will learn that, while fighting for what he believes in comes at a terrible cost, giving up on his vision of peace is priceless. Friendships will be rekindled, and with them, his sense of purpose.
1. Chapter 1 - Downed Dream

**Edit notes:** Made a significant change to the docks scene (trade gossip), and other refinements. Special thanks to fellow writer RowanMackenzie24 for suggestions and feedback.

* * *

A foggy sky above the ocean, nothing in sight but the water below, the mist on all sides, and five scaly wingsuits. Their false wings silently penetrated the air, not making a sound to reveal their approach. They flew in a rough V-shaped formation with a black-scaled suit leading the charge. The leader wore no insignia or crest to identify himself.

"Stay on course, guys," the leader, Hiccup, called through his mask. "We'll land in thirty seconds!"

"Same plan as always, right?" Snotlout called back.

"That's right. Get in and get out. Keep your masks on and faces hidden; they mustn't know who we are or where we're from. When we board, keep the guards busy while Astrid and I handle the rest," Hiccup replied.

A few moments passed in silence, save for the whistling of the wind in their ears.

Hiccup took a second to collect his thoughts. They were about to intercept a dragon-trapping ship. It was searching for the Hidden World, or at least, the general area where ships and sailors often disappeared. The warlords of the present had caught on, and, in their never-ending pursuits, persevered to claim dragons. Whether it was for power through enslavement, resources to harvest, or revenge by murder, Hiccup didn't know, nor care.

Not all dragons could hear Toothless' call to return home, and thus, there were always occasional sightings and trappings in the world above, but now the warlords were ramping up their efforts.

New Berk did not stand idle. Their spies misled mapping ships and their tiny navy made a difference, but it wasn't enough. Hiccup and his former riders had to act as the last line of defense by doing what they were doing right now.

A crosswind shook Hiccup back into the present. Straight ahead, blurry colours and distant torches were fading into view. After a few beats, the colours sharpened into edges and curves, then outlines.

A lone warship. Decks lined primarily with net-launchers and a few ballistae. The turrets were small and agile, built to shoot down aerial targets, despite said targets having vanished nearly a decade ago. The weapons were unmanned, thankfully, as the sailors expected no attacks at the moment. The ship was in familiar waters and therefore nowhere near the dragons' ancestral home.

Snotlout and the twins cheered at the sight of the ship. The prospect of violence and peril excited them more than they feared being horribly outnumbered and surrounded upon landing.

"Aim for the sail closest to the stern," Hiccup yelled. "Find the captain's quarters as soon as we board!"

In a moment, they arrived above the ship, and they descended and turned in a wide circle to bleed off extra speed and height. A few shocked cries rose from below.

"Wha' the bleedin' Hel?!"

"Look out!"

Hiccup braced himself for what was to come next. Wingsuit-gliding was a fancy form of falling, not flying. Improvisation was necessary upon landing.

Astrid arrested her speed with some sail rigging and a somersault roll on the deck. The twins crash-landed in a stack of barrels, and Snotlout rebounded off a sail before crashing and uncharacteristically laughing at himself. Hiccup was the only one to land in a draconic manner, majestically flaring his upgraded wings in a grand display of flying skill and mechanical prowess as he came down.

He hit the deck before the awestruck sailors with a thump, and his friends rose behind him. He flicked open his fire-sword, Inferno, and the otherworldly illusion was complete.

"Ah! Demons! Monsters!" a sailor cried.

"Oh, I get that a lot," Hiccup said nonchalantly. He nearly took off his mask to prove his humanity when he remembered that it wasn't a good idea, being the Chief of Berk. Ruffnut took off her mask and waved in his place.

"It talks—What are you? What do you want?!"

"We're friends of dragons," Hiccup replied. "As for what we want—where's the captain?"

There was silence. The sailors were hesitant to attack; most of them didn't have time to grab armour or anything other than the small swords they usually carried.

Suddenly, someone screamed a battle cry and charged at Hiccup's flank. Hiccup whirled around and raised his sword to counter, but there was no need. Astrid engaged the sailor until Snotlout could clobber the distracted man in the side of his skull, and he fell to the ground.

Hiccup nodded at Astrid and Snotlout. "Thanks, guys."

Snotlout merely nodded back, with none of his usual boasting. Hiccup turned back to the gathering soldiers, now fifteen-strong.

"Where's the captain?" he demanded.

There was no response.

The fallen man's battle cry had failed to prompt the stunned sailors to action, but the sight of his body did. Wordlessly, the crowd of sailors advanced.

Hiccup knew he and his friends stood no chance in a fair fight, totally outnumbered and cornered, but he had prepared for this. He unhooked a hefty jar from his belt, gave the contents a shake, and hurled it in front of the crowd. Glass shattered and oil splashed across the deck.

"Stop!" Hiccup commanded, but the sailors ignored him, advancing over the liquid. Runny oil and clumps of resin and pitch snaked across the deck—

The mixture ignited a moment too late, engulfing the men in an abrupt inferno instead of blocking them off as Hiccup had hoped. He could not watch as the sailors ran off the deck, screaming and burning, to douse themselves. The flames were not as explosive, hot, or abundant as a dragon's, but they were superior in sticking to things, and in denying an area for a while. Hiccup would've been proud of his incendiary invention, if it weren't for the consequences.

He noticed that the flames were not spreading quickly. Good. He didn't want to condemn the sailors to a watery grave, no matter what wrongdoings they were capable of. The shipbuilders had probably coated the deck with something to resist the fires from dragons, or perhaps clever Vikings.

Hiccup beckoned for his friends to follow him, and they marched through the flames. The intense heat seared their skin, but their scales kept them safe.

Snotlout laughed, despite the situation, as he realized what Hiccup was about to do. "Time to make an appearance!"

Hiccup nodded back. "Never gets old, eh?"

On the other side of the blaze, three properly armed men stood, trying to appear brave as five scale-clad figures advanced towards them through a wall of flames.

"What do ye' want!?" a burly man demanded. Hiccup identified him as the captain of the ship.

"Information," Astrid ordered, stepping next to Hiccup. "Where are you going—"

"Where _were_ you going, you mean," Ruffnut corrected, as casually as her old self.

"None of yer' business!" the captain blustered.

Astrid stepped forward, lifting her axe to the captain's neck. "Then it's definitely our business. Where," she pressed, "are you going?"

The captain hesitated for a moment until his weak resolve cracked. He spoke quickly and nervously.

"We were lookin' for the dragon's stronghold—"

Hiccup twitched as the captain's words confirmed his suspicions.

"—and we're tryin' to capture some dragons for ourselves. They sent us to try n' narrow down the search area, and I tell ya, the boss is Hel-bent on getting those dragons. They say they're off tha' edge of the world somewhere, so that's where we are tryin' to go, if tha' makes any sense."

"Hmm," Astrid slouched slightly, feigning indifference, though her next statement would contradict that. "Let me tell you something. From now on, you will not search for dragons," she ordered.

Silence.

Astrid's axe pricked his skin, and he went pale. Hiccup sighed, knowing that her act was just for show.

"Turn your ship around now and return to whatever Hel-hole you come from."

"I can't do tha', my boss is gonna kill me!"

"Find the dragons, and you will regret every waking moment of your life," Snotlout said, palming his fist "Unless you're actually as worthless as we think you are, that guy will not kill you for showing up empty-handed."

"I—Who are ya? Why are ya here? Why should I listen?"

Astrid lowered her axe and crossed her arms. It was a risky gesture, as being near armed enemies usually called for one to have their weapon out, but it showed that she was unafraid and that she was the one doing the strong-arming.

"You tell me," she said. When nobody responded, she, along with Hiccup, pushed past the men. They made no move to resist.

Astrid went off to the ship's wheel, and Hiccup entered the captain's deserted cabin, using his sword as a torch. He burnt all the maps and broke every navigation tool he could find, save for the ones the captain needed to return to his home port. On a whim, he looked under the captain's bed, finding a journal and a foreign dragon manual.

The ship lurched as Astrid steered it, and a commotion broke out on the deck. Hiccup turned and ran. Bursting through the door, he saw the twins and Snotlout face-to-face against several sailors. Someone had extinguished most of the flames from earlier.

"I don't think ye' get it," a gruff man pointed. "Yer' outnumbered nine-to-three. We ain't listenin' to a bunch o' madmen who drop out o' the sky. Hand over yer' weapons and ye' might just be lucky enough to get a boat back to wherever the Hel ye' came from."

The twins sniggered at each other. Hiccup recognized that look and frowned.

"Looks like Snoggletog has come early!" Tuffnut abruptly announced. Snotlout turned to stare at him, confused.

"We've got gifts for you guys," Ruffnut laughed, pulling out a handful of leaky Zippleback gas canisters. "Free of charge!"

"Oh, wait—EXPLOSIVE CHARGE!"

The twins darted behind a mast, and there was a spark. Snotlout and Hiccup caught on at the last moment, diving for cover as an explosion rocked the ship.

As soon as the ringing subsided from his ears, Hiccup emerged from his spot, spotting the twins bawling in laughter over several concussed sailors. The latter were lying around the now-burning deck in various places.

"Hey!" Astrid barked. "That could've killed someone!"

The twins kept laughing. They meant no harm, but they were reckless, even by Viking standards.

"C'mon Astrid! We haven't Loki'd anyone in ages!"

Sighing, Hiccup decided that now was the time for them to leave, as their task was complete, and their enemies defeated. He scolded the twins as he began walking to the edge of the ship.

"You know that we don't have much of that stuff left," he said. "We can't afford to waste it on things like that." He ignored their protests as he beckoned his group over to the ship's railing and relit his sword. He waved Inferno towards the foggy sea, making a signal of some sort.

A torch lit up in the distance, and a rowboat's silhouette appeared. Shortly thereafter, a lone Fishlegs floated into view. He had volunteered to row out the group's escape plan earlier, and had been lurking in the fog until Hiccup signaled that their mission was complete.

Hiccup took a moment to check on his friends as they waited for Fishlegs to row in, noting that they were back to their old selves. The twins were joking with each other, Astrid was calm and focused, Snotlout was proud of himself, and Fishlegs started nosing into the captain's journal as soon as he rowed close enough for Hiccup to toss it to him. But Hiccup knew that the moment they set foot back on Berk, they would revert to their new normals, for life without dragons had changed them.

Once everyone boarded, Hiccup took a final look at the ravaged deck. The remaining sailors on board were out cold or busy putting out fires, save for the captain who was somehow unscathed and staring at Hiccup in shock. Hiccup looked at him in the eye, and spoke.

"We will always be watching," Hiccup lied. Berk had their informants and limited patrols, but he knew that ships always slipped by on their insatiable quest towards the Hidden World. From that point, their fates would lie in Toothless' talons. In a way, Hiccup thought, he was _saving_ these ships by attacking them. Many of these ships disappeared after straying too close to the dragons' home—Hiccup suspected that the dragons had no choice but to kill in order to protect themselves and their home. He shivered.

Hiccup turned back to Fishlegs' rowboat and jumped in, and the others began rowing. The nature of their wingsuits restricted their raids to the areas around tall islands, so the trip back was going to be rather short—perhaps within swimming distance, but nobody wanted to test that during autumn.

Sighing one last time, Hiccup helped steer back to land, ignoring his friends' chatter about their latest adventure. Their latest mission went well, but Hiccup knew that the Elders back on Berk would hardly tolerate it. They made it clear to Hiccup that the raids were practically inviting trouble to Berk, and he knew it, but he knew that he couldn't stand idle while hunters sought after dragons.

Dragons and Vikings. Some part of his mind couldn't let go of that ideal, sky-high dream entirely. Two kinds, flying, feasting, fighting, and living together. If he closed his eyes and thought, he could imagine it vicariously for a blissful moment, until the vision wavered and shattered, exposing the reality behind it when a grim Bewilderbeast rose from an ocean, or a white-haired man drew his crossbow.

He stared out into the uncertain fog.

* * *

The young Chief stepped out of New Berk's Great Hall with a sigh of relief. Getting grilled by the village Elders after a raid was never pleasant, and Hiccup was glad to get it over with. They had questioned every move, every decision in his raids, but at least Fishlegs, in his new role as Chief advisor, always stood up for him.

Hiccup took note of the time. It was midday, and he decided that he could fit in time to unwind and finish his latest invention in the evening, after his duties.

He paced through his bustling village, checking up with various villagers and inspecting their winter preparations. It was already Dreadfall, and in a few short weeks, it would be time for the final harvest before the big freeze. Preparations were in full swing; drafty homes were under repair, cloaks and blankets were being sewn, and meats were being dried to last the winter. He spotted Snotlout helping with some roof repairs, and, for once, he didn't need to nag him into working.

Hiccup's once-arrogant cousin had matured drastically over the long years without Hookfang. He had plenty of time to reflect upon his arrogant lifestyle, and as a result, the egoistic wall that had separated him from reality crumbled. This new Snotlout was more humble and motivated than ever before.

"Hey Snotlout!" Hiccup called. "You've been working hard for most of the day. How does a break sound?"

"Sure thing!" Snotlout set down his tools and came to walk alongside Hiccup. "Maybe you'd like some sword practice for a break?"

Hiccup remembered that sword fighting was one of Snotlout's new strengths.

"Oh! Well, I'm, err, going to be pretty busy this afternoon—"

Snotlout gently patted Hiccup's shoulder. The gesture would've unnerved Hiccup in the past, but he knew that this new Snotlout meant it in a friendly way.

"I know you're nervous about it, but there's no use avoiding it—you can only get better through practice. Hey, a Chief's gotta be good with their weapon!"

"All right," Hiccup replied. "How long?"

"Just for half an hour!"

* * *

The two young men traded blows in a fighting ring. Hiccup defended with a dull, unlit version of Inferno, while Snotlout swung a versatile training sword, something in-between a one-handed shortsword and two-handed longsword.

Snotlout advanced yet again, and Hiccup tried something different as he grew tired. He positioned Inferno in the aptly named fool's guard, letting it droop down at the ground to invite a strike. Snotlout pretended to buy it, raising his sword high above his head in a menacing high guard. Hiccup easily saw through his posture and moved to counter as they swung, finding great leverage in his counter-strike until his wiry muscles betrayed him. Their swords locked. His wrists buckled, and Snotlout's dull sword skipped down Inferno's edge. Hiccup remembered a moment too late that his fire-sword had no handguard, and he frowned when Snotlout's blade struck his hands.

He stepped out of the fight, and Snotlout sheathed his sword.

"You suck," he said, causing Hiccup to wilt, "but that doesn't mean you're destined to be a bad swordsman."

"Really?"

"I don't know if you noticed, actually, but I was giving you everything I got," Snotlout said, chest heaving. "I tried everything, and you blocked everything. You saw through every trick, and I couldn't."

Hiccup scoffed, but Snotlout continued. "I don't mean to brag, but I've practiced a ton with some of the veterans, Gobber and Spitelout, and can hold my own. That means you definitely know your stuff for sure."

"Okay, then how did I lose three duels in a row?"

"You always let me strike first, which is fine, but then you never turn your defences into counterattacks. Eventually, I wear you down. Your lean build is great for quick strikes and dodging, not absorbing blows. You need to take every chance to strike."

"Attacking isn't my kind of thing. It just feels wrong."

"You can't always defend or dodge, and you can't win every battle by defending or running away. It's not just the Viking way just because of pride or honour, but because it makes sense. If you never attack, your foes will grow stronger, smarter, or just get lucky, and they'll come back to ruin you someday if you don't stop them first."

"I'm a pacifist, Snotlout," Hiccup stressed.

"No, that's not what I meant! You don't have to slay every foe, or dragon-hunter, but if worse comes to worst, you can still defeat them and make them look at the truth! You might not believe in fighting, and that's fine sometimes, but you can't choose to believe in peace when a sword is coming at you."

Hiccup paused and pondered Snotlout's words. He realized that he was still holding his sword by his side and sheathed it.

"Anyways," Snotlout said, "You're not bad with a blade in the slightest. You know your stuff, you're quick, and you're not that clumsy anymore. Just take the initiative from time to time, okay?"

Hiccup smiled. "Alright. Since when was my cousin a teacher?"

"Since he realized that he wasn't good at anything other than riding a dragon," Snotlout laughed. "I figured being a weapons instructor was something I could be good at."

He turned to watch the clouds, and Hiccup decided that they had practiced enough.

"I think I had better call it a day," Hiccup said. "I better get going."

Snotlout didn't hear him for a moment. "Huh? Oh, I just realized something—remember our dragons? It seemed like most of our riders had the same fighting styles as their dragons did."

"Huh?"

"Meatlug and Fishlegs liked to play it safe and strike from a safe distance. Astrid and Stormfly were much more nimble on the ground than in the air, and both were pretty good at throwing axes and spines. As for you, well, Toothless was the best at dodging in the skies, and you're definitely hard to hit on the ground. I'd even say that you're both good at quick strikes."

"Hmm, that's interesting," Hiccup said as he turned. "Anyways, I've got to see someone at the docks."

"Sure. See you around!"

* * *

Berk's docks were bustling with activity as coins and goods changed hands. The trading rush before winter was at its peak as Hiccup walked down to get the attention of his fishermen.

"Have any of you seen Valka's ship?"

They shook their heads. Hiccup went to ask another group and received a similar response.

Out of all of Berk's former riders, Valka had fared the worst since the great departure. After spending half her life with Cloudjumper and the others, she struggled to return to the normal, grounded way of Viking life, and every few months, she would sail out, alone, on excursions to Odin-knows-where., but Hiccup suspected she had found some way to reunite with Cloudjumper, or something. He knew how much it hurt to bid farewell to someone he knew for years, let alone half of his life, and he didn't have the heart to question his mother.

As Hiccup made his way through the crowded docks, he nearly bumped into the second person he was looking for: A lumberjack from a southern tribe.

"Afternoon, Chief Haddock! I've been looking for you." The lumberjack was a burly, powerful man with a great beard, but Hiccup could tell by his polite, gentle movements that he was a fair person.

"Bjor Ozursson! Welcome to Berk!" Hiccup said as they clasped hands. "You seem to be in a hurry; shall we get to business?"

"Why yes, thanks for understanding." They turned and walked, exchanging the usual trade gossip as they walked. Hiccup didn't pay much attention until Bjor started bringing up the topic of dragons.

"I've heard that you lads used to be with the dragons, eh?"

"Why, well, sort of." Hiccup said apprehensively. Neighboring tribes didn't look kindly upon New Berk's former relationship with the dragons. He was starting to regret opening his tribe to trade, for fear of an attack, but he knew that there was no point in hiding. The warlords of years past had already found his island with Grimmel's help.

"Don't worry," Bjor said. "I ain't had any trouble with dragon riders or dragon warlords, whichever one of those you lads are. We haven't had too much trouble with dragons."

"Say, what do you think of Timberjacks, Bjor?" Hiccup asked, hoping to read Bjor's intentions. If anything, a lumberjack would hate the beasts that occupied their forests—

"Aye, my father used to say they were nasty things before I took up his lumberjack trade," Bjor said. "But, for the past fifteen years or so, I really haven't had much trouble with 'em. They don't bother us unless we bother 'em, so we don't. I've even heard of a madman training one to cut wood for him, but I think that's nonsense."

"Hey, you'd be surprised." Hiccup said. "Dragons can be amazing creatures—"

"Don't get me wrong, lad, but I ain't wanna hear that. I ain't no enemy of dragons like most men, but I ain't no friend, either. As a trader, you learn to keep to your things and to let others keep to theirs. I'd say you keep quiet about that dragon-talk; your tribe is showin' up on plenty of maps."

"Okay, okay then," Hiccup said. "What makes you bring up the topic?"

"Oh, I just wanted to let you know that you could be makin' a fortune by selling dragon-derived things and the like."

Hiccup nearly exclaimed at Bjor, but he suppressed himself at the last moment.

"Huh. What things, exactly?"

"Scales and skin for armour, spines for spears, less glamorous bits for rituals, everything. I've even heard that someone out there figured out how to extract their fire."

Hiccup started to pale. "No way," he said. "There's no way you could force a dragon to spare a single scale for you, not unless you… killed it, but then you would run out of dragons."

"I'm not sure how they do it," Bjor said, "but I've heard they found a way. They don't need an alpha dragon to help them. Nay, they gave up on that years ago. But as I was sayin', you could be makin' a fortune from sellin' your leftovers from the dragons."

Hiccup said nothing, and stared at the ground as they walked to Bjor's barge.

In the past, he would've felt obliged to take on any threat to dragons, but now, he didn't. Fighting for the cause that he had believed in had cost him his leg, his father, and nearly his best friend. It was too dangerous. As long as the Hidden World kept its namesake, most of the dragons would eventually be forgotten, and thus, safe forever. He reluctantly decided that it was best to not intervene.

They arrived at Bjor's barge, and he spoke up.

"What do you think? The finest hardwood from the South!" he said.

Hiccup nodded and inspected the wood, noting that it was satisfactory. It would be perfect for his latest project.

"Now, I must tell you something," Bjor said. "While that wood is strong for its weight, it's a lot harder to cut than your evergreens that grow around here. Best you use it for tools or weapons, things that must be light and strong."

"Yup, I'm aware of that." Hiccup replied. "The wood is nothing Gronckle Iron saws can't handle."

"Aye, about that, any chance you got some for sale—"

"Don't ask."

"Alright. Now, the wood?"

"Right, here's your payment," Hiccup said as he checked his bag, only to remember that Berk wasn't a trading powerhouse in the slightest.

He didn't have enough money to spare.

Berk had spent most of their gold on rebuilding a fleet for fishing and basic patrols around the island. They had abandoned the original fleet on Old Berk when they fled from Grimmel on dragonback, many years ago, and blew more gold on imports until their young farms became self-sufficient.

"I suppose this wouldn't be enough, would it?" he asked, showing Bjor his coins.

"Sorry about that, no," Bjor said. "The hardwood's a pain to chop, and you'd have to journey far to get any for yourself."

Hiccup brought his hand up to his forehead, and dragged it down until it reached his beard, tugging out a few hairs.

"Fine, you can have these instead."

He produced a few iridescent, black-as-night scales from his bag, and gave them to Bjor. The man gawked, and his hand shook when he took them.

"Is this—is this from a _Night Fury?_"

"Don't you dare tell anyone else, not unless you don't want to trade here again."

"What? Why would I tell anyone? This right here, it's a trader's treasure. I'm going to pass it on to my son."

Hiccup sighed. "Can I unload the ship now?"

Bjor nodded, and Hiccup gathered some of his tribesmen to help unload the ship. Selling bits of his best friend's skin felt demeaning, especially after what he had just heard, but he was sure Toothless would understand if he could see what the hardwood was going towards.

Once all was said and done, Hiccup helped carry his wood from the docks to one of New Berk's great lifts. After he and his fellow villagers loaded the platform, he released it with the tug of a leaver, and watched as his water-powered mechanism gradually ascended up the vertigo-inducing cliff, towards the specks of liftmen far above.

A small flying object, likely a kite, wandered over one of the cliffs. Hiccup watched as it rose and pulled taut against a string held by an unseen Fishlegs.

When Hiccup told Fishlegs about his latest project, the Ingerman took a fierce interest in everything about it, and assisted in every way he could. Fishlegs feverishly studied the sky's clouds and weather, found locations where the winds would consistently catch his kites, and helped Hiccup design his early prototypes. Now, all of their hard work would pay off.

Hiccup used to have a nigh-unbreakable habit of flying with Toothless at least twice a day. While times had changed, Hiccup still made time for his own solo flights, although that word was a rather loose description of wingsuit flying—falling with finesse.

Tomorrow, he would change that.

* * *

**A/N:**

And so the first chapter begins! I've got the plot all planned out and a few scattered chapters written, but there's a long journey ahead, for Hiccup and myself. I hope not to add this story to the growing collection of unfinished stories on this site.

I plan to keep things fairly realistic and grounded (figuratively) in this story. The more realistic a story is, the more likely it could've happened, thus making it more enjoyable, in my opinion. Hence wingsuits are hard to land, and I mention details dragon-hunting ships coated in fireproof substances (specifically, vitriol of clay, the medieval term for aluminum sulfate that was actually used for fireproofing in siegecraft and warfare! Cool stuff.)


	2. Chapter 2 - Fly On Your Own

**A/N:**

What happens when a wannabe aerospace engineer and pilot writes a HTTYD fanfic? You get a scene like the first one in this chapter, heh. Enjoy Hiccup's latest contraption!

The rest of the chapter is more solemn, however. I wrote that after watching HTTYD 3, so consider yourself forewarned.

* * *

Hiccup and his wife Astrid stood at the crest of a hill while their kids, Zephyr and Nuffink, preoccupied themselves with drawing and head-banging. Gobber and Fishlegs paced around nearby, the former with nervous apprehension, and the latter, with barely contained excitement.

In front of them laid a strange, dragonlike contraption. Its exposed skeleton was made of wood, the tendons of rope, and wings of stretched canvas, and in place of a powerful torso or a spade-shaped head, it carried a cloth harness. With two wings, two small mid-fins, and a long, double-finned tail, the average Viking would describe the craft to be reminiscent of a Night Fury.

"Are ye' sure this flyin' contraption is a good idea?" Gobber asked, gesturing at the contraption and the distant cliffs and sea. "You seem to crash every other flight."

Astrid was nervous as well. "How can you be sure this will work?"

Zephyr, a youthful girl with her father's hair and mother's eyes, spoke up. "Dad will be fine, I know it!" Her blond brother, Nuffink, nodded vigorously in agreement.

"I'll be fine," Hiccup said. "I've based my glider on Toothless' frame and his wings, so it should be fairly familiar in the air."

"We've done our research," Fishlegs added. "Hiccup used my detailed sketches of Toothless' wings in his designs, and we did more stationary tests while tied down to the ground. Besides, I have a pretty good feeling about this one—"

"You said that last time!" Astrid interrupted.

"The last one was perfect, except for the wood I used in it," Hiccup said. "Now, however, I've made sure to use some strong hardwood in the wing spars."

"I—well, okay, but please be careful," Astrid said. She moved to hug Hiccup. Nuffink and Zephyr followed suit, though they were much less concerned than their mother was.

At that, Hiccup turned to inspect his inanimate dragon. He put on his wingsuit as a precaution, in case he had to bail, and hauled the craft up onto his shoulders. He secured the harness to his chest and grabbed a support bar in front.

A gust blew over them, and Hiccup could feel his wings wobbling impatiently in the breeze. "Fishlegs, how's the weather?"

"Let's see... it's morning right now, so it will be turbulent out there, but that means you'll get plenty of good winds," he said, looking through his notes. "My experiments with my kites have confirmed that the seaside ridges do provide consistent lift, like you were saying earlier. As for normal updrafts, I haven't been able to figure them out yet as my evidence is inconclusive. Try following any soaring birds if you spot any, and see what happens."

Hiccup nodded and turned towards the edge of the hill. Gobber chuckled.

"Now lads, watch as our Chief throws himself off a cliff yet again. Never gets old, eh?"

After that remark, there was quiet. Hiccup waited for a strong gust to blow in his direction—there! His glider caught a breeze, threatening to lift him off his feet right then and there.

"Guys, I think this is it!" he said. His heart beat a little faster, and he stepped forward, starting down the hill. "Fourth attempt, here goes nothing!"

He ran down the hill, and he felt his glider getting lighter and lighter, but he continued accelerating until he broke out into a downhill sprint. He lifted the front of his craft and it bit into the air, pulling his feet up and away. He was aloft!

The headwind lifted his craft into a gentle climb, and he swung his feet back into the harness so he could lie prone in the craft. He cleared the trees at the bottom of the hill, and he heard his friends and family cheer behind him. _It's working!_

He continued climbing for a moment, gaining a modest amount of altitude before he slowed too much and his wings began to stall. His craft wobbled, and he compensated by leaning forward, pushing the nose-end of his craft down to trade height for speed. He began a gentle downward glide.

He quickly realized that he didn't have much height to work with, having just launched from the ground, but that didn't matter. The sheer cliffs of New Berk were just ahead.

He angled himself to fly straight over the cliffs, and the ground fell away. The shining sun, the cloud-saturated skies, and the shimmering sea came into view all around him. Memories of endlessly chasing the evening suns with Toothless came to mind, and he knew that he had missed this feeling.

But he was not out here to fly into the sea. He shifted his weight and banked in a wide circle to return to the cliffs, losing altitude as he did. By the time he returned, he didn't have enough altitude to return to his launch hill, but years of flying with a dragon had taught him how to fix that. On windy days like today, cliffs and ridges would deflect the winds upward, creating long, steady updrafts that he could follow for miles.

He flew alongside the cliff, and edged himself closer until a sudden bout of turbulence grabbed a wing, unbalancing his flight. He knew what to do from experience, however, and leaned aggressively into the airflow.

Both of his wings entered the draft, and his craft evened out. The cliffside breeze caught his wings, and he started _gaining_ height. He smiled.

He had to admire how dragons and birds alike could fly for great distances without flapping their wings. They had a knack for finding rising air currents, or thermals, to soar upon on cloudy days. Fishlegs discovered that these currents usually formed above abrupt changes in terrain and under young clouds, and, if Hiccup was lucky, he could soar around Berk for miles, hopping from one updraft to the next.

He balanced his craft to stay inside the cliffside air current, and he passed over a large outcropping. Berk's beaches far below came into view, and along with them, the remains of his first gliding attempt. From this distance, it was nothing more than several specks of debris scattered across the rocks, but it was a stark reminder of the inherent dangers of flight. His wingsuit was the only thing that saved him then.

But he had learned from his mistakes. He and Fishlegs determined that they placed the wings on their first craft too far forward, unbalancing its flight. As a result, the old sailplane overreacted to each movement like a ball rolling down a hill, ravenously biting into every turn until Hiccup lost control.

His current design was much safer. By building a wooden imitation of Toothless' frame, Hiccup got the double benefit of having an airframe that worked, and one that he knew. Plus, this large flying contraption could glide much further than his wingsuit. For all the good his wing-armour had done him, its small wings weren't good for anything other than falling with finesse. It could not soar like his hang-glider could.

His glider rose up to the limit of the cliffside air current, a few fathoms above the peak of the ridge below. The ridge stretched far ahead in front of him, curving away from the endless ocean and around the island of Berk, encompassing its wild forests and untamed grasslands.

He could've followed the ridge along the entire windward side of Berk if he wanted to, but then he spotted a sunlit outcropping of rock in the distance, next to the shaded forest. He saw a young cloud far above it, and began to suspect that he had found a current of rising air.

He flew closer and spotted a flock of birds circling above the outcropping. Yup, he had definitely found something. He circled underneath the birds and entered a column of rising air. His glider began to sail upwards, and he grinned as he rose defiantly against the pull of the earth.

The current lifted him upwards, and he slowly rose up for several minutes. The cliffsides and forests below him shrank until he could see the edges of his island, if he turned his head. _Wow. This is amazing_.

From this staggering height, his village was little more than a patch of missing trees and outlines on the ground. His life, work, and responsibilities laid down there, but for now, he was free from them all.

The flock of birds above him reached the upper limit of the updraft and banked towards the sea, beginning a great winter migration as they flew towards the edge of the world. Hiccup followed them out of the updraft, and a sudden wall of cold air hit him as he began descending. His pelts and face-mask couldn't shield him against the cold, and he shivered a little. There was no scaly body under him to keep him warm, and there was nobody around to catch him if he fell. He was alone.

But as the birds began to leave, Hiccup decided that it was time for him to take his own path. He leaned towards Berk and began searching for another updraft to ride.

He flew under an elderly, shrinking puff of a cloud, and began sinking rapidly. He immediately pulled away and searched for another current. After some trial and error, he lost more altitude and started getting close to Berk until he found a young cloud above the boundary between Berk's forests and grasslands.

A new draft lifted his glider, and with it, his mood. Flying a glider was akin to haggling with a merchant, buying height with speed or speed with height and always coming out with a loss, but this time was different. These updrafts were proof that he wasn't trapped on the ground without Toothless. He could fly on his own.

He would've been content to stay up here forever, but eventually, he realized that he had to end his sojourn in the skies at some point. He took in the clean clouds, the endless ether, and the whisper of the wind for one final moment, and dove.

Leaning forward into a sharp descent, he felt his limbs float as they became free from the chains of Earth. The air began whistling, growing louder in a tremendous crescendo until it roared. He felt a familiar rush overcome him, the feeling of exhilaration and danger pumping together, and beamed.

He streaked past the distance that had taken him ages to climb in mere moments, and Berk came into focus. Suddenly, it was time to pull out of the dive.

He leaned back to level out his craft, and the wood frame groaned as he did. He realized that his previous glider had broken up in a dive, and seized a strap on his harness in case he had to yank it loose to free himself and bail out. But there was no need. His craft held together, thanks to the hardwood construction, and he entered a swift flight above the island peaks.

He shot over a few hills with his newfound momentum, enjoying his free flight until the air slowed him down. Now he was out of speed and height, and his joyride was over.

Reluctantly, he turned back towards the village and picked out a grass field to land in. He spotted his friends and family running over, and he passed over them before lining up with the wind to approach his landing area.

"I told you he'd make it!" Fishlegs shouted from below. Gobber stood beside him, leaning on his leg and looking very winded, but relieved. "Odin's Beard, it worked!"

Hiccup descended down to the field, and he swung his legs down from the harness. With a careful tilt of his wings, he slowed, and touched down in a sprint.

"I'm back!" Hiccup said, feeling his joy ebb away as he slowed to a stop. He immediately felt the urge to return to the sky, but he knew he couldn't. He started taking off his gear when Astrid and his kids approached.

"Hey Astrid—"

She punched him. Nuffink and Zephyr laughed.

"Ow! What was that for?" Hiccup protested, rubbing his shoulder. He could not get himself to be properly upset at her, for her punch was gentle, even by his standards.

Astrid smiled. "That's for scaring me."

"What!? What did I do?"

"I thought you crashed," she said. "I couldn't see you through the trees after you dove to the ground, and I thought your craft broke up like last time."

"Oh, okay," Hiccup said. "But there's no need to worry. I always come back in one piece." He smirked and looked down at his foot. "Well, two."

Astrid laughed. "But you keep crashing."

"Well, there's been a lot of failures, but I figured it all out in the end," Hiccup replied. "If I don't succeed, I just keep trying and trying until I get something that works."

Astrid looked at him for a moment, and nodded.

"And that's what I like about you."

"Aw, Astrid," He reached for her hand, and she moved to hold his—

The wind picked up, and something tumbled in the grass nearby. "Er, Hiccup," Gobber interrupted, "Sorry to bother ye', but ye' might want to check on yer' glider—"

"What!?" Hiccup broke away from Astrid to look. His glider, the thing he had spent dozens, if not hundreds of hours crafting, was sliding away in the windswept grass.

"Oh Gods! Someone stop it—"

He bolted after it, and the others laughed as the craft eluded him, tumbling and twisting like a terrified Terrible Terror. Eventually, he caught up to it and pounced, tackling it to the ground as if it were an animal.

"Gotcha!" he said. He checked the sleek canvas and the curved wooden spars for any damage, and to his great relief, they were fine. "Fishlegs, could you help me carry this?"

"Sure thing," Fishlegs said, stepping over. "We should start heading back so we can put this inside."

Hiccup didn't respond, tenderly tracing the wingtips with his thumb.

"Hiccup?"

"Right, yes, we'd better get going," Hiccup said, hoisting up the glider with Fishlegs' help.

Gobber came over to pat him on the shoulder. "Nice work lad. Ye' sure know how to prove the naysayers wrong. Who woulda' thought my former apprentice would build somethin' to fly on his own with, eh?"

Hiccup opened his mouth, but his son cut him off.

"Dad, that was _amazing_! When can I try?" Nuffink said, leaping in front of him to get his attention.

"Someday, when you get older," Hiccup said. "It takes a lot of practice to get used to."

"What about me?" Zephyr asked. She was older and smarter, but still young. "We'll have plenty of straw after the harvest in a few weeks. We could make a big pile to practice landing in!"

"That's a good idea," Hiccup said, earning him a worried look from Astrid. "I'll work out something."

He took one last look at the distant sky, noticing that Fishlegs was doing the same thing. Eventually, he turned to lead his group back to the village.

"Well, I think I've neglected my Chief duties enough for one day," Hiccup said, causing the others to laugh. "We all better get back to work on preparing for winter."

"Aye, about that," Gobber said, "I finally figured out a way to cast nails quick n' easy for the usual repairs."

"Hey, that'll come in handy. How did you do it?"

"Water wheels, lad. It's amazing what you can do with 'em. Use one to turn a bunch o' rollers and screws to flatten and cut metal into rods, then throw in a few taps with a hammer, and ye' got yerself some nails! O' course, you can do more than make nails, and it's all easier said than done, but that's the gist o' it."

"Isn't that something. How long did it take to get the process figured out?"

"Eh, a year or two," Gobber frowned. "Nobody ain't got the time or metal for extra projects, and I ain't got the inventor's spirit like you do. Ah, I miss havin' an endless supply of Gronckle iron… but I did it in the end."

"Yup. It's amazing what you can do if you set your mind to it."

* * *

The sun was descending upon the horizon. The glaring ball of flame mingled with the distant mountains, and an endless variety of hues stretched across the sky. A sentimental shade of orange surrounded it, fleeing with the flying fireball into the past, while a cyan-black color conquered the current sky, capturing the warmth of day.

The wingsuit-clad Chief of Berk stood before a great precipice, watching his island and the sun's ocean reflection recede before him after another complete, busy day. He stared ashamedly at his wings, wondering if he had some kind of unhealthy obsession. Vikings had their mugs of mead, and he, his wings. He sighed.

There was once a time when Hiccup had felt worthless, lonely, or excluded, but those days were long gone. Now, he had pretty much everything he had ever wanted. The approval of his late father, the love of Astrid, and the respect of a tribe who once mocked everything about him.

And yet, he felt hollow and purposeless inside.

Life on New Berk was good, but tedious. Farm food, chop wood, build homes, suffer winter, and repeat. There were no lofty goals to work toward, nothing other than making enough ale to last the winter. There weren't any conflicts to worry about, for Berk had been isolated from the outside world until recently, and thus had been blissfully ignorant of war. Their last skirmish was with the late Grimmel, nearly a decade ago.

Hiccup was fast approaching his thirtieth winter, and with that realization came a reflection upon his past—Where was his life going? He ended a war as a teen, brought some measure of peace to islands around Old Berk, and then what? Nothing in his isolated village could match up to the success he had then, and he wondered if he would live the rest of his years like this until old age took him. Going by the average Viking's lifespan, he was running out of time—many people died of disease, injury, or glorious battle by their fortieth winter.

The sun finished its descent. The last ray twinkled as it slipped below the horizon, and Hiccup caught a glimpse of the edge of the night's shadow. He watched it fly over the grass, leap over the trees, and skim above the ocean before it dove off the edge of the world. With that shadow came the end of the day, the end of an era.

With a sigh, Hiccup turned his focus to the cliff and Berk in front of him. It was time to head back to the village. He checked his gear, opened his wings, and nearly bolted off the cliff when someone appeared. Astrid, clad in Stormfly's scales, had just climbed up the path to his side.

"Oh!" Hiccup exclaimed, skidding to a stop. "Good evening Astrid!"

"Hey, nice view up here!"

"It is!" After a moment, Hiccup realized something. "Oh, sorry for leaving you with the kids. I just, uh, needed a moment."

She walked up to his side. "No worries, they're at Gobber's place now. I saw your note and noticed your suit was gone, so I figured you came here. Mind if I tag along?"

"For sure, yeah!" Hiccup put on a smile, but Astrid knew him well enough to tell that something wasn't right. There was a lengthy pause, and he stared at the ground.

"Hiccup, how have you been doing lately?"

"Well," he sighed. "I guess I'm just having a hard time letting go of the past."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't stop thinking about the dragons—about Toothless—and the times we've had together."

"Well, you guys were close. Great friends for sure, maybe even like brothers, I suppose. I miss Stormfly as well, but you should get used to it, eventually."

"But the feeling doesn't go away. When I lost my father, I felt awful, and I still do miss him, but I was able to pick things up and move on. But with the dragons, the feeling keeps coming back. I feel unfulfilled, like I haven't finished a job or something."

He sighed and continued.

"I don't know, I've just been feeling pretty restless. Life isn't perfect, and I wish it was safe enough up here for them to fly freely, but they had better stay hidden until they may return in peace."

"Hmm. Well, life was a lot busier back then," Astrid said. "You were always working towards something big, like getting dragons and people to live together peacefully. Now, we don't really do that anymore."

Hiccup nodded, and they gazed at the dimming horizon. There was still a bit of twilight from beyond the horizon, faintly illuminating the clouds above.

Suddenly, Astrid realized something and turned to face him.

"Hiccup, what happens if they can't come back?"

"Huh? That couldn't happen. They'll be able to come back, eventually."

"When? Will it ever be safe for them to return?"

"I'm not sure, but that shouldn't matter. We have to wait until it is."

"Wait? So we should sit around and do nothing until something changes?"

Hiccup was taken aback. "Astrid, we raid any ships that stray too close to their home, and we tell our tales of peace with dragons to other tribes. There's nothing else we can do, not without endangering ourselves."

"That's not much. Those tales are just stories to them, myths that they laugh at or wish were true. Most tribes still think the dragons are fearsome monsters, and their voices are louder than ours. If the dragons stay hidden, the world will only remember the cruel, simple beasts that they think dragons are. The true nature of the dragons will be misrepresented in myth and story, and if we sit around and do nothing, they won't be able to return in peace, _ever._"

Hiccup took a sharp breath, then exhaled with a sigh. "Well, maybe they're better off that way. Forgotten, misunderstood, but safe. Happy."

"Maybe, but maybe not. They might not stay hidden forever or be totally forgotten. The world is big, but not boundless. What if someone finds the Hidden World?"

"That wouldn't happen."

Astrid scoffed. "You said '_wouldn't_' that time. How can we be sure?"

"What is it with the words 'wouldn't' and 'couldn't'? Does it matter what I say?"

"It means that you're not sure of yourself, deep down. Your father said you were destined to find their home, didn't he? If he knew their home existed back then, then that means that someone discovered the dragons' hidden refuge, and we're not the only ones who know. The secret is out, and people are always exploring the seas. Someday, the world will find out."

Hiccup didn't respond.

"With all the prejudice going around, we'll be back at square one. If there was conflict when the very first Viking saw the very first dragon, there will be conflict when the first human rediscovers the Hidden World."

Hiccup stared at the afterglow of the horizon, watching the fallen sun's rays reach over and strike the thin clouds. He felt that he could almost reach out and grab that light, that vision of an ideal world, if he tried. He could never grasp it completely, but he could get closer and closer if he chased after it.

"Okay, alright. I'll think about it."

"Take your time," Astrid said. "I miss Stormfly too."

They watched the twilight for a while. Eventually, Hiccup realized that they had to leave for the village now, or risk tripping and falling in the dark.

"Alright, we should start going back. Thank you for coming up here, Astrid."

Astrid opened her wings, and smiled.

"Race you back?"

Hiccup smiled back at her. "You're on!"

Together, they bolted off the cliff. Hiccup spread his arms and cheered as he caught the sky and flew. He closed his eyes for a joyous moment. Flying with someone else was way better than flying on his own.

Something tapped him on his back, and he rolled over to look. Astrid was speeding by, smirking at him.

Hiccup put on a smug grin, and rolled back down to dive. He immediately pulled ahead with his superior skills and self-made suit, for he was the champion of wingsuit-flying. Toothless was the fastest, most agile dragon anyone had ever known, and he liked to think that his own flying reflected that.

And then he realized that he was getting _way_ too far ahead of Astrid. Flying was second nature to him, but not her, and this race wasn't even fair. He slowed for her to catch up, and once she approached, he flew closer and risked a game of aerial tag.

After plenty of laughter, tumbling, and near-crashes, they arrived above the village. They found a field of tall grass and leveled out just above it, the grass whipping by a few arm-lengths away.

"Ready to land?"

"Yeah!"

They bent their knees, and the wing-fabric between their legs made them pitch up and flare. Astrid's false wings weren't big enough to completely stop her flight, but that was no issue. She stalled above the ground and landed with a roll in the soft grass.

Hiccup, on the other hand, had more success in his landing. He flared at just the right angle and heaved his wing-arms against the air, slowing just enough to land on his feet. He came into a sprint and sped past Astrid.

"Slowpoke!"

Astrid put on a terrifying burst of speed and surged past him. "What did you just say?"

Hiccup laughed and pumped his legs harder. Astrid was quick and light on her feet, and he was starting to regret his decision to slow down during their flight as they raced towards the village.

* * *

Gobber and Zephyr and Nuffink were leisurely strolling through the village while Hiccup and Astrid were gone.

"...What was Hiccup like when he was little? Aye, good question Zephyr. I tell ya, we used to think the poor lad was the worst Viking ever. He was tiny! There was once a time when he couldn't lift a hammer, throw an axe, or toss a bola, and he was the laughin' stock of the village. We never thought he'd amount to much."

"That doesn't sound like Dad," Nuffink said.

"But he wasn't one to give up. You see, the lad's stubborn, just like all Vikings are, but not in the way most would expect. He couldn't throw a bola, so he built a contraption to do it for him. And the next thing you know, he's shot down a Night Fury. A _Night Fury_!"

Zephyr gasped. "Whoa, a Night Fury? That's not even drawn in Grandpa's book of dragons! Are you sure he did that?"

"None o' us believed him, but he did it. But then again, he didn't do it. He spared the dragon, and I tell ya', any Viking woulda' given their arm and a leg—" he waved his hook for emphasis "—to kill a Night Fury, but Hiccup wasn't a Viking. At least, not until he changed the definition of a Viking to fit him."

"Huh. Why didn't he do it? Why didn't he kill the dragon?"

"Aye, he says that when he found Toothless—the dragon—in the woods, he could tell right away that he wasn't alone. There was another soul watchin' him through the dragon's eyes, and he could feel the beast's despair when it thought it was goin' to die."

"That's odd," Zephyr said. "Dragons have feelings? I read that they were monsters you should kill on sight."

"He gave the dragon the gift o' mercy, and the dragon returned it. He went on to discover that it was more than just a simple beast, but that's a story for another day," Gobber said, spotting somebody rushing towards him. It was Eret.

"Gobber! Have you seen the Chief?"

"Eret! He's probably out flyin' right now. What's the matter?"

"Valka is back."

* * *

Gobber passed on the message to Hiccup when he got back.

By the time Hiccup found his mother on the docks, it was nightfall. The horizon had completely entrapped the sun's twilight, and only a few torches burned on the nearly deserted wharfs to fend off the dark.

Valka was unloading supplies from her sailboat with a few other villagers. She was wearing her usual armour-dress, and atop it, a free-flowing weave of reddish-brown Stormcutter scales that matched her auburn hair. The scales seemed to catch more light than they should have, shimmering in a show of defiance against the night.

"Valka—Mom, you're back!" Hiccup called as he came down the docks.

"Oh! Hiccup!" She bent over to put down a barrel she was carrying, and faltered. She dropped the barrel on the planks and clutched her chest.

"Here, let me help you with that," Hiccup said, rushing over to help. "Are the years starting to catch up to you?"

She didn't laugh. "No, but the arrows are."

Hiccup looked at her a second time. Her face was wrinkled with stress and fatigue, and her scales were broken in one spot around her midsection. A small patch of a bandage peeked out from under her armour.

Hiccup frowned. He had not seen these Stormcutter scales before, and Valka's wound had many implications. "Hold on a moment. What happened? When did you get those scales, and where have you been?"

"Just a moment," Valka said. "I missed you, son."

She drew him into a hug, and after a surprised moment, Hiccup returned the gesture.

"I missed you too."

She pulled back after a moment and sighed. "How are the kids?"

"They're doing great, but how about you? It must've been a long journey back, being injured and all," Hiccup said.

"Well, if life was easy, it would be boring," she said. "The scales are from Cloudjumper, as you may have noticed."

"Hmm. If he could speak, I bet he'd say that they look good on you."

"Oh, why thank you," Valka said, "but he asked me to wear them for protection."

"Huh, that's nice of—Wait a minute, he _asked_ you to wear them?"

"I've lived with him and the others for nearly three decades, Hiccup," Valka said. "After a while, you start to pick up on their ways."

"Well, isn't that something," he said, before noticing something odd about Valka's words. "When did he give them to you?"

"About six or seven years ago—"

Suddenly, Valka realized the implications of her words, and clamped her mouth shut.

"A few years after the dragons left, eh?" Hiccup inquired. "So you've seen him recently?"

"Well, I suppose so."

"Where?"

Valka didn't respond.

"Mom, you're hurt. I need to know what happened," Hiccup said.

"Hiccup, can you keep a secret?"

Hiccup smiled knowingly. "Hold on. I think I know what it is."

Valka cocked her head, waiting for his guess.

"Is it a place out to sea?"

She nodded.

"Is it a gargantuan cave in the ocean with a huge waterfall engulfing it?"

Valka nodded again, and her eyes widened.

"The Hidden World," Hiccup breathed.

"How did you know?"

"I've been there."

Valka gasped, and Hiccup continued. "Toothless and Stormfly showed me and Astrid their secret paradise. I thought we were the only ones who knew, so I kept quiet about it."

"My goodness, it's been all these years… and I also thought I was the only one when Cloudjumper showed me," Valka said.

"Well, now you know," Hiccup smiled. "It's a stunning place, and it seems the dragons only trust the the three of us—the best of Berk's riders—to see it. Astrid and I were thinking of sailing back with our kids, but we decided not to. What if someone follows our ship, or yours, for that matter?"

"I take a course with many turns to throw them off, but, after I reunited with Cloudjumper for the first time, we started meeting further away from their home. The dragons patrol the neighboring waters, you see, and many of them remember me. They know who to call over when they see my boat."

"Interesting. They run patrols?"

"I'll explain that tomorrow, it's getting late," Valka said. "But to be brief, I didn't fly back on Cloudjumper because I worried for his safety, and he worried about not being able to defend his home during that time."

"That doesn't sound good," Hiccup said. "Does that explain your wound?"

"Why yes, it does," Valka said. She pulled out her staff, inspecting its bloodstained edges with a sad sigh. "I couldn't put down the vigilante business."

"Mom," Hiccup said apprehensively. "We're supposed to stick together in our raids on ships that get too close to the Hidden World."

"No, it's not that," she said, growing more stern. "I've gotten myself into a lot of trouble on some missions I could only do alone—the forces of darkness are still around, and I've found out what they've been up to."

"Really?"

She turned to look at him. "Hiccup, they've given up on enslaving dragons for their conquests. They know there's not enough left in the world above for an army, so they've started doing something absolutely mortifying with those that remain."

"What is it?"

"Remember how our dragons would give us their scales for armour, Gronckle Iron for tools, fire-gas for weapons, and so on?"

Hiccup froze. "Yes, I do."

"They found a way to harvest them for war."

* * *

**A/N:**

Dragon harvesting. I've done some research on dragon fire types, and that's opened an entire pandora's box of possibilities. The next chapter will deal with that.

...

So, Hiccup has a hang-glider now. After much research, I can say that Hiccup's latest contraption is plausible, given his experience and Fishlegs' study of dragons. The main problem with early flying was the lack of knowledge in flight mechanics and aircraft design, but in a world with dragons, Hiccup has an advantage where real aviation pioneers have failed, such as Otto Lilienthal. (By the way, you should check out Otto's work! He was surprisingly successful for his time, and inspired the Wright Brothers.)


	3. Chapter 3 - Deterrence and Diplomacy

**A\N:**

Sorry for the delay! A HTTYD montage project (Google "Toothless Shot of the Day #500 Special"), COVID-19, work, and my worst nemesis, procrastination, delayed this already-challenging chapter greatly. But, there's good news: The upcoming chapters should come quicker as I've overhauled my plot plans. Expect updates about every 4th weekend, with the exception of the next chapter, which will come at the end of June.

A warning for this chapter: There are some dark moments in this story. I can promise that this story won't go past a T-rating (PG-13), and I don't enjoy stories stuffed full of violence, but there are some dark moments.

Special thanks to fellow writer RowanMackenzie24 for providing invaluable feedback and suggested edits.

* * *

Hiccup woke up early the next day. It was dark out, and the sun had not risen yet, but a few villagers were up and about outside. The nights were getting longer as winter approached, to the point that the nights outlasted the time one needed to sleep.

He noticed that the rest of his family was still asleep, and decided that it was time to start the day. He clambered out of bed and fumbled in the dark, searching for his prosthetic leg before accidentally knocking over a piece of wood. It fell with a loud clatter, and he winced.

Astrid and Nuffink remained sound asleep. Hiccup smiled, wishing he had the ability to sleep through noise like they did. Unfortunately, however, Valka and Zephyr were stirring as they weren't deep sleepers. He personally blamed Valka for passing that trait onto him and subsequently his daughter.

"Rise and shine everyone," Hiccup called. He lit the candles in his family home before opening his wardrobe to get dressed. Vikings had many traditions, and while he had abolished many of them by bringing dragons to Berk in years past, there were some customs that were definitely worth keeping in his choice of clothing.

He put on his usual garments before donning his self-made, black-scaled chestplate on top. It was Viking tradition for Chiefs to wear armour, even in peacetime, and he was glad to do that. Toothless' scales made for a surprisingly warm layer in the cold, too.

He tapped the metal-and-scale plating of his leggings before putting them on. It was also common to forge armour from the metal and materials left behind by lost loved ones. Stoick's chainmail had gone into the metal backing under various pieces in the armour, supporting the outer layer of Toothless' midnight scales on top. Valka also used to wear a helmet before Cloudjumper took her from Old Berk, and Hiccup had forged some of that into his armour as well.

He put on the rest of his gear, save for his helmet, and strapped on his wings out of force of habit. He paused, contemplating if he should take off the wings or not, before deciding to keep them. He wouldn't mind if his villagers thought he looked strange, and besides, he liked to think that he had never lost his ability to fly, even if he had lost Toothless. Additionally, his folding wing design was very compact and wouldn't get in the way of anything.

"My goodness, look at you!" Valka said. She had awakened and dressed, and was currently looking over his outfit. "That's quite some elegant armour you have there, but what's with the wings? Are you thinking of going out for a flight at this hour?"

"Oh, I just felt like putting them on," Hiccup said. "I probably won't have time to go flying today."

"You just felt like it?" Valka asked, before smiling. "I suppose they feel natural for you to wear at all times, hmm?"

Hiccup nodded, and she continued.

"I always knew you had the soul of a dragon in you."

Hiccup groaned. "Mom, you've been saying that for about ten years straight."

"I'm serious, Hiccup," Valka chuckled. Hiccup rolled his eyes, and they went over to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Zephyr joined them, and after they ate, Hiccup gave her a hug before she went off to the village forge where Gobber was. Zephyr was young, but she had already taken up an interest in forgecraft and mechanical things, and Gobber was more than happy to feed her curiosity and to take on a new apprentice.

After checking again on the still-sleeping Astrid and Nuffink, Hiccup decided to leave a note and some food behind for them, and came to Valka.

"Well, I suppose we better discuss what you were warning me about last night."

"Yes," she sighed. "Let's go out for a walk."

"Sure."

Hiccup grabbed a nearby torch before frowning disdainfully and taking his fire-sword, _Inferno_, instead. It made for a good light source, albeit an unusual one, and he preferred his own handcrafted piece of work over a burning stick anyway. He then followed Valka outside.

It was dark out, but daybreak was fast approaching. A wave of blue was beginning to march across the night sky, retaking the ether from the clutch of darkness.

Valka silently turned for the gloomy forests and bleak cliffs, and Hiccup followed. He saw a few villagers out in the torchlit streets chopping wood and setting out salted meats to dry, and he wondered if Valka's news was going to tear him away from the monotony of preparing for winter.

* * *

Valka did not utter a single word as they walked through the village and surrounding trees, and Hiccup began to get apprehensive. Eventually, they arrived at a clifftop by the corner of the island, overlooking the sea to the east and west.

"Huh," Hiccup said, looking towards the glowing horizon where the sun was due to rise. "I came here last night to watch sundown on the same night you came back to Berk, and the next day you bring me here to watch the sun rise. Isn't that a coincidence?"

"You don't say?"

They watched the predawn horizon for a time. Eventually, Valka spoke.

"Well, I think it's time I tell you about what I've been up to, and what I've seen during my time away from Berk," she said. "As you may have figured, it's not good."

She paused to take a breath and continued.

"Cloudjumper and I have been active for several years, and it's a long story, but to be quick, we went hopping from one tribe to the next so I could infiltrate and get information."

"That sounds really risky," Hiccup said. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to know if the warlords and dragon hunters had stopped their pursuits or not, and I do have some good news," she said. "Two out of the three warlords who came to our island, along with Grimmel, have passed away, and the last warlord alive seems to be incapable of enslaving dragons."

"Go on. What's the bad news?"

"Well, as I said last night, the hunters have found a way to harvest dragons for war, and it all revolves around this one particular island tribe…"

* * *

"Fire!"

A catapult hurled a cloth ball up above an island. After a few moments, there was the crack of ballistae. Several bolts flew past the ball target, and one found its mark, impaling the target and knocking it out of the sky.

From the hilltops of the same island, Andor Folkvarðrson watched his ballistae-men cheer as their practice target broke up and crashed to the ground. Another target launched into the sky, only to be shot down again, and Andor cracked a weak smile. His catapults could fire the training targets so far up that the aerial target practice could be seen for miles by anyone, particularly by the foreign warships about to make landfall on his island.

He was not under attack, but he very much felt the same. In just a few short minutes, he would be due to meet down by the docks with the man responsible for all the problems he faced as Chief. The man who had taken up Drago's mantle after his disappearance.

The ongoing aerial target practice was really just a show of force, a demonstration in case he got any ideas about enslaving a dragon army like his predecessor did. Sure, such anti-air weaponry was probably unnecessary in a world nearly devoid of dragons, but Andor wasn't going to let his guard down. Nobody imagined a Bewilderbeast could be enslaved until Drago did just that, nor did anyone think dragons could be tamed until Berk did that too. The unreal became real on a regular basis, and for all Andor knew, the warlords of the present day would bring back their airborne armies. Where there was a will, there was a way.

Someone approached from behind. It was Skuf, one of his deputies.

"Chief? Sorry to bother you, but I believe it's time for us to go down to the docks. For the meeting."

"Right, thank you for reminding me," Andor said. "Assemble an escort and ask Scale-Stalker to come along. We will require her services to inspect our purchase when it arrives."

"One moment," Skuf said, leaving to fulfill Andor's request.

Andor turned to face back towards the sea, letting his gaze wander over the grim ships below before noticing a familiar, haunting emblem on their sails.

His island was alone because of that emblem—a sword and the outline of a Monstrous Nightmare's face glaring down at the viewer. At first glance, it appeared as if the sword was impaling the dragon, but in actuality, it was attacking downwards _with_ the dragon. The symbol of the Dragon Army.

Drago Bludvist was dead, and his airborne army had collapsed after him, but not his men or fleets. They were still around, for a new man had taken Drago's helm, and so their flags continued to fly, provoking an old memory in Andor's mind.

He recalled receiving a parchment stamped with the Dragon Army's emblem, many years ago. He didn't recognize the emblem at the time. Nobody did.

The dragon menace was growing out of control, the paper had said. Several tribes were dying to onslaughts of dragon raids and attacks. He was summoned, along with many other Chiefs, to a great gathering of Chieftains to discuss the problem. But he was ill at the time and could not attend the summit. He cursed his luck at first, until he learned of the truth when one of his merchants approached him a few weeks later.

"Andor," the merchant said, looking worse for wear. "My trading ship has just returned from the Volsung tribe."

"Well, how was it?"

The merchant shuddered. "I… I don't know what to say… my tradesmen came back empty-handed."

"What?! Why? Was there some kind of dispute that went foul?"

"No. The Volsung tribe no longer exists."

The entire Volsung village was gone. Buildings and people pillaged and killed. Survivors told tales of a colossal entity that could crush entire buildings with its feet and summon a horde of dragons at will. A 'Bewilderbeast'.

And it was all connected to that Chiefs' summit, many years ago. The Volsung tribe's Chief went missing after attending the summit. Furthermore, just about every Chief who attended the summit disappeared shortly thereafter. It was not a coincidence that they had all disappeared. It was a trap.

Andor later learned that all the Chieftains who attended that summit died, for a man named Drago Bludvist had enslaved dragons and ordered them to crush the Chiefs' hall, burning everything in sight. Rumor had it that Stoick the Vast was the only Chieftain to survive, but alas, leadership around the region was knocked out in a single strike, enabling Drago to take out tribes while their leadership was compromised.

As the reports of newly extinct tribes came in, it seemed like there was nothing that could stop Drago, and Andor recalled feeling a black, icy sensation of tightness in his chest each time his trade ships came back, empty-handed, from yet another tribe that went extinct.

Andor blinked, and his recollection of the past ended. He found himself back in the present, standing on his island's hilltops as he watched three foreign warships gliding into his harbor below. Those warships belonged to Drago's successors, and he was going to let _those_ ships moor on _his_ island! He could not believe himself for allowing this to happen.

But it was necessary, he reminded himself. The warlords who had taken Drago's place could've walked right over his island if he had stood by and done nothing over the past years, so he took action. It was only through deterrence and diplomacy that he could keep his tribe safe. His people.

He turned to look around his island below, taking note of the structures that comprised the first method of protection, deterrence. Countless arrays of catapults, ballistae, and archer towers lined his town, all of it surrounded by one mighty wall. Even if the warlords got past all that, they would be met by pockets of resistance inside his village in the form of turrets installed in the plazas and atop buildings. Not even the innocent tradesperson or their family would be vulnerable to extortion, for most of them had joined the island's militia.

But not even all of this militarization could stop the armadas that stretched off to the horizon. It would only make invasion attempts a costly hassle for them at best.

The second method of protection was diplomacy. If Andor could offer the conquerors some kind of incentive, some trade for allowing his tribe to stay free and neutral, then they would leave his island unscathed.

But both of these methods came at a cost. Literally. His people were not true warriors, and every chiseled brick, fletched arrow, and handcrafted catapult consumed resources that were supposed to go towards feeding the village. Furthermore, his people would practically have to sell themselves and their entire livelihoods if they wanted to buy their tribe's sovereignty from the warlords.

The solution was to pioneer more profitable, exotic trades. Something that could fund the extravagant defenses and appease the warlords, something that no other tribe could offer. Dragon harvesting.

Andor heard footsteps from behind again, and realized that his deputy, Skuf, was back.

"Sir, your escort is ready. We are waiting for you on the main path, and Scale-Stalker is with us, as you requested."

"Thank you, let's go."

As Andor left his hilltop perch, he realized that today was going to be one of the few times in his life that he would join an escort for protection. He had almost never needed personal guards during his years as Chief on this island, for it was a peaceful place, but today was different. He was due to meet with the foreigner in charge of those warships in his harbor. If his memory served right, this man was dangerous and unpredictable, a megalomaniac. With the exception of today, however, Andor's island was normally tranquil. He kept his people happy, and they kept him happy, and so his island was nearly devoid of internal conflict and traitorous spies.

Andor strode down to where his escort was waiting. He spotted Scale-Stalker waiting among them, a hooded figure wearing a dragonskin cloak and a weave of Stormcutter scales underneath, complete with double-hooked staff on her back.

From what Andor knew, Scale-Stalker was a nameless woman who hunted dragons, as her name implied, for the exotic materials they provided. She claimed to be a tribeless wandering trader of sorts, and Andor was initially suspicious, but he eventually came to trust her, and hired her for what she offered. She had a knack for hunting down extraordinary dragon parts, if paid well enough, and she had an encyclopedic knowledge of dragon anatomy gathered from her trade.

"Greetings, Scale-Stalker," Andor said.

* * *

Andor approached her and called her name. "Greetings, Scale-Stalker."

Valka nodded back from under her hood. "Hello, Andor. Let me guess, today we've got another live purchase down by the docks that needs inspection, correct?"

"Yes. Well, the usual inspection for an unusual dragon. I've never even seen this one with my own eyes before, but maybe you have, given your years of experience."

"Indeed," Valka said. She scowled and adjusted her cloak, glad that nobody could see her face or her angst under the hood's ever-present shadow. This dragonskin cloak was uncomfortable and mortifying to wear, and she hated it. It wasn't hers, and was actually stolen, just like all the other things she sold to Andor, but she nonetheless felt guilty for wearing it.

"Now," Andor said, "I require you to leverage your expertise in dragon anatomy today, to ensure that they are selling us a healthy dragon and to assess its value. To be fair, I'm not sure if you will be able to estimate the value of a one-of-a-kind creature, but apart from that, it's the same task as last week."

"Of course. But as I've told you before, I wish to return to my hunts and leave the island by the end of the month. My true pursuit is hunting dragons, not trading," Valka said. It was all a ruse, of course, but Andor didn't notice her forced tone.

"Absolutely," Andor said. "But your services as a wandering trader of sorts are greatly appreciated. In fact, I have come to rely upon you as a supplier of sorts, and I will gladly await your return in the future. Would an extra payment incite you to stay here longer?"

"No, my apologies. Let's go."

Andor nodded and assembled his men, forming a protective shroud of guards around himself and Valka. They turned for the shoreline, beginning a downhill march to the port where three warships were beginning to moor.

* * *

The procession moved down the hills and into Andor's town, clearing a path through the crowded streets and markets. As Valka followed, she progressively became more and more tense and alert. The town was a claustrophobic, entrapping place, and she immediately felt the urge to return to the open, free hills where wilderness and safety was. No dragon could safely enter and rescue her from the fortified town if she needed to escape, but this was where all the important business took place.

She scanned her surroundings. The weather was poor, and yet the town around her was warm and bustling. Townspeople traded freely in the markets and struck up small talk on the street, oblivious to the overcast skies above that filtered out the warmth of sunshine and bathed the buildings with dreary, cold sunlight. Or maybe that grey appearance was a byproduct of Valka's mood, her emotions fouled by the grim knowledge of the things that happened in this village.

She found it hard to believe that she was surrounded by normal people with normal lives, not bloodthirsty warriors or obedient peasants. But many of Andor's people supported or were directly involved in acts of obscene cruelty against dragons. To them, dragons were lowly animals, or simply objects, that didn't warrant much thought. _If only they knew,_ she thought.

As the escort moved through Andor's village, they came within earshot of incessant screeches and squawks. Valka tensed. She knew that sound all too well from her time here. It was the sound of dragons in distress.

They passed by the source of the noise—a large, metal-reinforced stone building with dragon-sized doors—and Andor stopped.

"Wait," he said to his group. "Let's halt for a moment. I wish to check something."

The building's doors were open, and inside, a Deadly Nadder could be seen chained down to the floor. The building's walls were lined with cages containing other Nadders, noisily protesting as they watched the scene unfold.

Valka suppressed a gasp when she saw the chained Nadder and its striking sky-blue scales. This dragon wasn't Stormfly or any of the other Nadders known to Berk, but nonetheless, it was very much a Nadder with a life and soul. No, _he _was a Nadder with a life and soul. While Nadders didn't have much in the way of facial expressions, Valka could practically see the despair written all over his face.

Around the restrained Nadder, two armed men stood, both of them holding axes. One of them raised their blade above the Nadder's neck, and the commotion from the nearby dragons doubled.

The Nadder struggled against his chains, before squawking feebly and closing his eyes in defeat. The axe came down, and Andor grimaced and looked away while Valka stared on at the atrocity. The Nadder let out a final screech, and Valka concealed her despair with her hood.

As soon as the Nadder's spasms ended, the two men stepped closer to the corpse to do their work. Valka turned away.

After some time, the two men finished their job, and another team of men arrived. There was the sound of something being dragged away, and Valka turned back. To her great relief, the Nadder's body was gone.

In place of the mess was a pile of silvery metal powder, a pile that seemed to shimmer in the same way a Nadder's scales did. A few flecks of metal floated freely in the air, glinting in the sunbeams coming through the building's barred windows. Valka looked at the pile, wondering what exactly she was looking at. Was this some distillation from the Nadder, something taken from its body?

"Nadder's fire-extract," Andor supplied. "It's rather nasty to work with, but it's incredibly useful."

As the pile sat out in the open, the shining metal began to slowly tarnish and lose its shine. Valka frowned; most shiny metals took months to tarnish, not minutes. There was something strange about this substance, something dangerous that she didn't know. Andor's tribe had uncovered a way to cultivate Nadders, but she began to doubt that they could've truly tamed this wild fire-extract, the essence of the Nadder's soul.

But how could Andor's tribe sustain the harvest of Nadders? Nobody knew of the Hidden World's exact location, and while there were some dragons who had not found the Hidden World, or wished not to return to it, there were only a few dragons left in the skies above. Any harvesting or trapping operation would surely run out of dragons in no time.

"Andor, I have to ask," Valka said. "How do you find enough dragons to replace the ones you've killed in these… processes? There are hardly any dragons left—they've almost totally disappeared from the world above."

"Ah, the Great Disappearance. I remember that very morning when they vanished!" Andor said. "It was a strange day, which turned into a strange week, and then a strange year before it became the new normal. The end of an era, I suppose. That day is going to go down in history—it'll be forever engraved into the books as the beginning of the end for the dragon menace."

Two workers appeared from around the corner as Andor talked, approaching the pile of metal powder with shovels and buckets.

"But the dragons aren't gone just yet," he continued. "A few stragglers still soar in the skies above, and so the spark of dragonkind stubbornly simmers on, like the embers from a fire that refuse to be put out. If we don't quench those _embers_, there's a risk that they will _rekindle_ the fire of dragonkind until it grows into an _inferno_ that threatens us all, a wildfire that engulfs the pillars of civilization."

Valka didn't respond. She silently watched the two workers as they began shoveling the metal into their buckets, noticing how a few sparks flew out each time their metal spades struck the powder.

"Oh, my apologies, I didn't answer your question," Andor said. "To put it simply, while there are only a few dragons around these days, whether it be the stragglers in the wild or the odd ones who were in captivity before the Great Disappearance, you only need a few of them. As long as you have male and female dragons of the same species in captivity, the problem is solved."

Valka suddenly felt very glad to be wearing a hood that concealed her feelings right now.

"I suppose it isn't a very pleasant process, isn't it?" she said.

"Not at all," Andor said, shaking his head. "Frankly, this whole enterprise of dragon harvesting is just too violent and dangerous, no matter how lucrative it is. But it's necessary."

One of the workers' shovels struck the metal pile hard, producing several sparks. Suddenly, the surrounding powder ignited, catching fire with a small, brilliant white flame. The workers stepped back, unharmed.

"Watch it!" Andor barked. "Get some sand and put out those flames now, but whatever you do, do _not_ use water."

The two workers responded promptly, grabbing the nearest firefighting buckets and swinging them at the fire. Bucketloads of water came pouring out, and they realized their error a moment too late.

The blaze exploded. There was a blinding flash as the flames swallowed up the water, and a pillar of white smoke shot up to the roof, sending sparks and metal fragments flying out in all directions. The two nearby workers caught fire, and they ran frantically for the nearest place to stop, drop, and roll.

Andor flinched when the blaze exploded, and Valka took a few steps back before noticing that the flames were not spreading. The floor was made of stone, and even though the area underneath the fire appeared to be melting, the flames didn't grow. But regardless, it almost seemed as if the blaze had flared in spite of the extinguishing attempts, as if the fallen Nadder's soul was burning and defying Andor's men from beyond death.

Andor grimaced and turned to the men in his escort. "Reinn and Skuf, help them put this out, with _sand_, please, before you treat their burns. Thorvald, go get some more help for them." At that, he turned to the others. "As for the rest of us, let's move. We're going to be late for the meeting."

Valka blinked, waiting for the spots of glare to fade from her vision. "Wait a moment. Are you sure they'll be okay? Shouldn't we stay and help?"

"You raise a fair point, but the men I sent will take care of this, and that building is made out of stone, so it won't burn down. If we stay, however, we'll be late and arrive after the ships come, which we cannot afford."

Andor beckoned his men, and they resumed their journey to the shoreline. Valka frowned under her hood, and turned to follow.

* * *

They arrived at the docks.

Valka and Andor's group made their way around one last building, and three ships came into view. One full-size warship loomed high above along with its two accompanying escort ships. The ships had just arrived, and Andor's villagers were coming over to assist them, tying them to the wharfs and raising gangplanks. Their movements were terse and faces sullen, as there was a palpable feeling of tension in the air.

A perimeter of flags and militiamen enclosed the area, forming a border that no sailor or townsperson could cross. A few townspeople had gathered to watch things unfold, and if any of them looked closely, they could've spotted a few archers lurking atop the nearby rooftops.

Andor's group approached the wharf, and the line of guards cleared the way. Andor brought his procession down the planks and stopped halfway towards the ships to wait, and after some time, several sailors filed out from the biggest ship. Eventually, their leader emerged.

A foreign man of a medium build, clad in a dark brass chestplate, pauldrons, a spiked helmet, and a dark red tunic. Valka froze upon seeing the man. She recognized him, and recalled fighting alongside Berk's Dragon Riders against him and two other warlords during the armada Battle of Berk…

"Greetings, Chaghatai Khan," Andor said coolly.

Chaghatai lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave, "Hello, Andor Folkvarðrson and… who are you?"

"Scale-Stalker," Valka said briskly. "Dragon trader-for-hire, here to inspect the purchase on Andor's behalf."

Chaghatai squinted, struggling and failing to recognize the oddly familiar hooded figure before himself. "Hello Scale-Stalker. Let's get to business."

He turned to direct his sailors as they unloaded a large, covered dragon cage. They dropped it harshly on the planks, eliciting an angry grumble from the creature inside.

"Well," Andor said, looking over the tarped cage. "If this dragon is the one you've told me it is, then we might be making history right here and now. The first dragon of its kind to be captured and sold alive!" He paused. "But I'm surprised you managed to find one at all. I thought your late mercenary Grimmel had exterminated this particular species before you hired him."

"And so did I," Chaghatai agreed. "He claimed to have hunted all of them down, so I, along with my fellow lords Ragnar and Griselda, thought it would've been wise to hire him to capture Berk's Alpha a few years ago. But Grimmel turned out to be a traitor, and an incompetent one at that. He thought he had hunted down every last Night Fury, but he didn't know that they simply fled north when he began his hunts. Heck, he didn't even know of Berk's infamous Alpha Night Fury until I told him of it."

"Huh. I thought he said that the beasts couldn't survive in the cold."

Chaghatai scoffed. "It's already cold _here, _compared to the lands I'm from at least, and yet they've had no trouble surviving. Besides, any dragon can keep themselves warm enough as long as they find enough food to fuel their inner flame."

"Interesting. So, did you manage to capture Berk's Alpha in the end?" Andor said.

"No. Grimmel had captured it for a brief time, but he then betrayed us at the worst moment during the Battle of Berk. The Dragon Riders swooped in while he was dangling the Alpha in front of us, quite literally, and Berk's Chief retook control of the Night Fury shortly thereafter. While Grimmel had taken Berk's dragons, the Dragon Riders had conjured a way to fly without their beasts… using some kind of armour with unnatural wings… and they flanked us from above. We ultimately lost the battle."

"Well, that sounds like an interesting story," Andor said. "But maybe it would be better if you told us the details another day. Let's see the dragon you brought."

"Absolutely."

Chaghatai's men pulled the tarp off the cage, revealing… another tarped cage inside.

"A cage inside a cage?!" Andor exclaimed. "This must not be a trick."

"Oh no, it isn't a trick," Chaghatai said. "As you know, this is a rather valuable shipment, and we've been getting plenty of interference from the former Dragon Riders. This cage's inner tarp cannot be removed without unlocking the outer cage, preventing spies from seeing what's inside if they were to peek underneath the outer tarp."

"Ah, that sounds like an extensive measure to stop foreign activity," Andor said. "I didn't know that the Dragon Riders were still active."

"They are indeed still active, and thanks to the late Grimmel, we know where their new settlement is. I reckon we ought to do something about it."

Andor didn't like where this was going. He did not have any good feelings towards the self-righteous people of New Berk in the slightest, but he did not want to be dragged into a conflict he had no interest in. "I suppose so, but weren't you saying something about your dragon cage here?"

"Ah, yes. We used a double cage to contain this dragon because it keeps things secure. Not just against ex-Dragon Riders, but the beast itself—this dragon seems to be smarter than the others we've captured. Hel, it might be smarter than my men. It has a knack for escaping."

Someone opened the outer cage and yanked off the inner tarp, revealing a sleek, black-as-night dragon with glossy scales and blazing yellow eyes. A Night Fury.

Andor and Valka flinched upon seeing the dragon. Andor was surprised to see a Night Fury up close with his own eyes, and Valka was shocked upon seeing a Night Fury that wasn't Toothless for the first time in decades.

As the tarp came off, the dragon quickly swiveled its head around, scanning its surroundings for an escape. Once it found none, it turned to look over each nearby person, as if judging their character, until it somehow recognized Andor and Chaghatai as the men in charge and began watching them. Andor found it deeply unsettling.

"My goodness. You actually captured a Night Fury."

"After spending too many men and resources trying," Chaghatai sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

Andor looked at the warlord, and then the dragon, and realized something. "Hold on a moment. I have to ask, why are you selling this to me?"

"Huh?"

"You've been trying to enslave dragons for years," Andor said. "A Night Fury would most certainly be an asset worth keeping, not selling, for your purposes. Is this some kind of deceit?"

"No, no, it isn't," Chaghatai said. "I'll be honest—I was trying to enslave the Night Fury to do something like what Drago did with his Bewilderbeast, but my attempts have failed. Night Furies are just about impossible to capture, contain, and enslave, and no matter how much potential they might have, they're simply not worth the effort."

"Hmm, Berk made it look easy," Andor said, walking around the cage for a better look at the dragon. This would be a very expensive and dangerous purchase, especially if a man like Chaghatai considered the creature to be uncontrollable, but he decided that it would be best to buy the Fury anyway. The less dragons Chaghatai had in his possession, especially powerful breeds like this one, the less dangerous he was.

"Alright, I have one last question," Andor said. "How did you manage to capture this dragon? That doesn't happen every day, or at all, for that matter."

"Well, I almost failed entirely," Chaghatai said. "It seems that the remaining Night Furies out there stick together, making it just about impossible for my men to escape retaliation after capturing one. Oh, and don't get me started on our failed attempts at sneaking up on Strike Class dragons. They're just about impossible to ambush, but if you take the brute-force approach and send an army, they'll just flee further and further north until your men die of the cold!"

"Look, I don't want to hear about your struggles," Andor said. "How did you capture this very Night Fury before us?" He needed to know if Chaghatai had gotten lucky, or if he had devised some new strategy or weapon that enabled him to capture the uncapturable.

"Do you really need to know?"

"Yes, I do."

Chaghatai groaned. "You ask for too much, Andor. Anyway, we just had a stroke of good fortune—this one happened to be a loner, so we were able to track and ambush it without being attacked by the rest of its kind. Of course, it was all easier said than done, but after many tries, we did it."

"Ah, alright," Andor said. He watched the dragon for a moment before addressing Valka. "Well, Scale-Stalker, it's time to do what you came here for. Examine this dragon to determine if it's in good health before I buy it—"

The Night Fury turned as he spoke, and Andor realized that it had been intently watching the active speaker in his conversation as they spoke, which was _him_ right now. He froze.

"Very well, I'll have a look," Valka said. She walked over to the cage, and Chaghatai's men opened the door for her to enter. She took a deep breath before stepping in, and they closed the door behind her.

Andor and Chaghatai began to discuss some other matter amongst themselves, and Valka tuned them out. She met the yellow eyes of the hissing she-Night Fury in front of her, and sighed sadly.

"Oh, you poor creature," she whispered. This muzzled female before her was utterly restrained—the chains around her chest were so tight that they practically glued her to the cage walls. Valka put her staff down and tried to step closer to loosen the bindings, but the dragon lifted up a claw and snarled, stopping her from approaching.

She stepped back and slouched, making her posture submissive. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, careful not to be heard by anyone other than the dragon in front of her.

The dragon stopped snarling before looking at Valka… skeptically? No, that could not be.

"Here," Valka said, holding out her hand. "Have a smell and maybe you'll get to know me better."

The dragon smelled her morbid dragonskin sleeve, and unsurprisingly snarled again, before Valka pulled back the sleeve so as to expose the second cloak of Cloudjumper's scales underneath. The dragon sniffed her weave of Cloudjumper's donated armour, and froze.

"I'm not one of them," she whispered. "I look like a hunter on the outside, but on the inside, I'm a Dragon Rider."

The Night Fury looked up at Valka and cocked her head, producing a quiet, questioning warble.

"I'm going to get you out of here someday," Valka whispered, "Not today, but I'll definitely come back later to save you. I promise."

Someone knocked on the cage door behind her, and she turned to see who it was. It was Chaghatai.

"Excuse me Scale-Stalker, what are you doing?"

"I'm pacifying the dragon before I inspect it," Valka said calmly. "I can't examine a dragon if it's angry and trying to harm me."

"Huh, very well then," Chaghatai said, before turning away to resume conversing with Andor. Valka looked back to the dragon, who had resumed glaring at her since Chaghatai's interruption.

"Could you play along?" she pleaded, stepping over to the dragon's side.

Surprisingly, the dragon obliged and extended a wing as soon as she loosened a rope.

"Huh. Well, let's begin."

Valka brought her hands up to the Fury's wing and traced the leading edge, checking the joints for damage.

"My goodness, you have a story," she said upon finding several scars. "You've flown many winds and fought many battles—were you trying to get away from the hunters?"

The dragon hummed sorrowfully.

Valka scanned the rest of the wing for any tears or punctures, and found none. "Here, let's have a look at your other wing."

She loosened the bindings to let the dragon move away from the wall of the cage.

"Oh my Gods, what did they do to you?" she hissed, rushing over to check the other wing. This one was covered in several manmade welts, and, upon tracing the wing, she noticed that one of the wing-bones was crooked and fractured. The dragon suppressed a whimper as she brushed her fingers against it.

"Monsters," she breathed. She turned to look into the dragon's amber-yellow eyes and made her sympathy as clear as possible. "Mark my words, I will get you out of here someday, even if you cannot fly."

The Night Fury warbled quietly, and pressed her muzzled snout into Valka's chest. She flinched in surprise. Most wild dragons were slow to trust anyone like that.

Or maybe this dragon wasn't truly wild. She took a moment to scratch the she-dragon on the back of her neck. "My son used to be great friends with one of your kind… did you ever get to know a human before?" That would explain why this dragon was so trusting of her and seemingly aware of spoken words.

The Night Fury warbled again. Valka frowned, struggling and failing to interpret the multifaceted sound. She didn't have the chance to learn the tongue of the elusive Night Fury species in the past, and she couldn't tell if this dragon had somehow understood and responded to her, or if the dragon was just happy to see someone who wasn't a hunter. She considered bringing out her rattle-staff to communicate, but decided against it, for fear of drawing attention to herself.

She moved over to inspect the tail and legs, and after some time, finished her inspections. There were several minor scars and untreated cuts, but the only serious thing was the wing that she had seen earlier. She got up and began to head towards the cage exit, before pausing. The Night Fury was growing more and more distraught as she pulled away, as if being torn away from a friend.

Valka quickly glanced around to check if anyone was watching, and then stepped back within whispering distance.

"Stay strong, dark one," she said. "I know the world looks bleak, but no matter how surrounded you may feel by the darkness, do not quench your flames of hope. Let your soul burn brightly and defiantly like a midnight torch, bringing light and warmth to the world around you, and know that the gloom will not last forever. Eventually, the night will end, and dawn will come to join you in your struggle against the dark."

The dragon hummed and looked at her for a moment, before withdrawing to the corner of the cage and lying down to rest. Valka turned towards the cage door and got the attention of the nearest guards, who let her out and led her to Andor and Chaghatai. The warlord was in the midst of rambling on about something, but it didn't seem very important, considering that Andor broke away from him mid-sentence when she approached.

"Welcome back, Scale-Stalker. What is the report?" Andor asked.

"Well, this adult Night Fury of thirty years or so is in average shape and has no signs of illness, but she has one major injury you should consider," Valka said. "Her right wing has been lashed and struck multiple times, breaking the bone on the leading edge and preventing her from taking flight." She paused for a moment, thinking of a way to spin the truth into something that could help.

"If you buy her, I would advise you to set her wing-bone back in place so she can heal, even though you obviously don't plan to set her free," she added. "A grounded dragon's mental state will deteriorate quickly and make them less cooperative than an uninjured one, even if they have no chance of returning to the sky in either case."

Chaghatai frowned, and Andor scoffed before speaking. "Mental state? Since when did dragons have mental states?" he said. "But, I suppose you have a point about fixing its wing to stop it from going berserk. Anyways, it's good to hear that the dragon is in fair health otherwise—"

"So, I'll be candid," Chaghatai interrupted. "Do you want to buy it?"

"Absolutely," Andor sighed. "A dragon of such great calibre requires equally great compensation."

Andor addressed to his men, and he left to help them wheel over a cart containing a collection of scales and claws, among other less glamorous parts, and a large quantity of gold. As he brought over the cart, he saw Chaghatai's eyebrows rise upon seeing the contents, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over himself. Chaghatai would most certainly use these dragon-derived products to harm other tribes. Bones, claws, spines, and teeth made for lightweight, sharp blades, while scales and hides made for unique armour, somewhat weaker than their manmade metal plate counterparts, yet much lighter. Andor detested knowing that Chaghatai would use these things to harm others, but it wasn't like he had a choice, did he? He knew of no other way to appease the warlord's greed.

"My goodness, this is a sizable overpayment," Chaghatai muttered. "I usually only see this much after raiding a small village or two—how did you get so much?"

"Well, the dragon trade is lucrative, and their scarcity has only driven prices up," Andor said. "If it weren't for the inherent dangers, it would make for a fine trade." He paused before deciding to take a shot at Chaghatai. "Not to mention that it's far less cruel than taking land and gold by force from innocent people."

Chaghatai didn't hear him, and Andor watched their men as they transferred the Night Fury and the gold, until he remembered something. There was some unpleasant business that he had to get out of the way, and it would be best to do it now while Chaghatai was still in a good mood from the excess gold.

"Oh, could I ask you something?" Andor said, "I wish to renew our treaty. Would you mind signing it?"

Chaghatai's face fell. "Right, the blood oath treaty. Let's get it over with."

Andor retrieved a parchment and a dagger, and drew blood from his own palm before signing the paper. He quickly checked over his writing—an agreement that stated Chaghatai and his men wouldn't set foot on Andor's island so long as Andor provided them with a steady supply of dragon products—and he handed the paper and blade over to Chaghatai.

The warlord repeated the process nonchalantly before handing it back, and Andor nearly gawked at how casual he was—a blood oath treaty was nothing to scoff at. But then again, Chaghatai wasn't from these lands, nor was he a Norseman for that matter, and his word wasn't worth much.

"Alright, now that the business is over with," Chaghatai said, "what do you wish to do now?"

"Well, if we're finished our business," Valka interrupted, "I'd say that we ought to leave and carry on with our own affairs, shouldn't we?"

Andor nodded with her, but Chaghatai objected. "Actually, I have a few things I wish to show you before I leave—"

"No thank you," Andor interrupted. Chaghatai had a habit of showing off 'a few things', and it rarely ended well. It would be best to change the topic. "Say, what was Grimmel the Grisly like before he betrayed you?"

"Grimmel? Ah, he reminds me of Stoick's son. They were runts who couldn't stand the pressures from their villages to mature, so they cheated and fooled everyone into thinking they were greater than they actually were. Grimmel claimed to have killed every last Night Fury, while Stoick's son supposedly tamed one, only to control over them a few years later. Heh, I wonder if Stoick knew how much of a failure his successor would be."

Andor frowned. "Hey, Stoick the Vast was a fine dragon-slayer until his son learned to control the dragons. It's a shame his son betrayed him in the end by commanding a Night Fury to kill him."

"No, the runt's control over it was weak. My late lord, Drago, had the Night Fury kill Stoick. Nothing stood in the way of his dragon army."

Andor scoffed. "Where is this 'dragon army' you keep mentioning? From what I've heard, that lone Night Fury took down Drago's beast and then took over what would've been your dragon army!"

Chaghatai didn't respond. Valka stared at her feet.

"Berk's Night Fury took down a _Bewilderbeast_!" Andor shrieked. "Do you know how much firepower it takes to blast that monster into submission?! If a Night Fury can do that, imagine what it could do to an entire village! Night Furies are a threat to the safety of my people—all dragons are a threat to the people, to mankind. I can't have that."

"And that is why Drago tried to conquer them," Chaghatai said steadily. "By conquering the dragon menace, he could stop its spread."

Andor looked at him skeptically. Conquering the dragons had given Drago lots of power, and all of that power had corrupted him. Andor suspected Chaghatai was no different. "But Drago couldn't hold on to the dragons, and neither could Berk. They lost control of them in the end."

"Maybe they have, but I won't," Chaghatai said. "It's only a matter of time before my scouting ships find the dragons' current refuge. We've narrowed down the search perimeter by a fair amount already."

Andor shook his head. "I think you're playing a fool's game—trying to hunt down their home is suicide. I learned that lesson at the expense of my men—trust me, it's not worth it."

"I think we'll have to agree to disagree," Chaghatai said. "My belief is that Berk released their dragons because they were afraid we would capture them, so they decided that it would be better for nobody to have the dragons instead. But I think we can still find and control them. We just need to try harder."

"I suppose that's one possible explanation for the Great Disappearance," Andor said. "But now that Drago and his forbidden knowledge is gone, how will you control the dragons when you get them?" He snorted. "What, will you just capture New Berk and demand to know their secrets?"

"Why yes, you just read my mind," Chaghatai said, menacingly stepping closer so that only Valka and Andor could hear his words. Valka felt her pulse quicken, and for a moment, she thought Chaghatai was trying to provoke a response from her as he towered over her. But she managed to conceal her tension, preserving her disguise. She needed to leave this place as soon as possible to bring the news to Hiccup…

"Well, good luck with that," Andor chided. "It's a mountain of an island and just about impossible to attack."

"I can always deploy more men to overwhelm them," Chaghatai said. "Failing that, I'll just lay siege to the island. Would you be interested in assisting my troops?"

"No." Berk was the one tribe that Andor wouldn't worry about if they disappeared overnight, but he didn't wish to shed blood over an island he had no stake in.

"But aren't you an enemy of Berk?" Chaghatai questioned. "If you're the enemy of my enemy, you ought to be my friend. Would you do me a favor?"

"No, I decline. I am not on good terms with Berk, but they have not provoked nor harmed me or my people, so they do not concern me."

Valka felt her skin turn pale underneath her hood. She was very, very grateful that she had thought of wearing a cloak for anonymity before stepping onto this island. Andor would most certainly consider her espionage to be a provocation if he could recognize her.

"Are you sure they have not done anything to you?" Chaghatai said. "They have been raiding my merchant ships for years, both before and after the Great Disappearance. They would definitely be interested in your dragon harvesting and trading operations." He shot a glance at Valka as he spoke, trying to elicit a reaction from her, but she remained impassive.

"I don't think so," Andor said. "How would they raid my ships? They don't have possession of dragons anymore, and their naval fleet is practically nonexistent."

"According to my subordinates, their raiding parties drop out of the sky with false wings and armour made of scales," Chaghatai said.

Andor gaped. "I thought that was a myth! No man can fly without the help of a dragon."

"It is not a myth."

Andor shook his head. "I'll believe it when I see it. Anyway, about Berk's raids, I'm sure I could always negotiate a compromise with them if I had to. There's no need for an invasion or bloodshed over simple disputes."

"Why settle a matter with styluses when you can settle it with swords? It's much quicker that way, and the winner gets everything," Chaghatai said.

"Please, I'd rather not discuss this further," Andor said. "If you wish to assault Berk, that is your business. Let's talk about something else."

Valka breathed a sigh of relief, before she saw Chaghatai smiling unnervingly at Andor. "Very well. Perhaps my great Dynasty's latest inventions will fascinate you."

"Inventions? I didn't come here just to watch a weapons demonstration."

"Oh please, I'm sure you'll appreciate it," Chaghatai said, turning to address his men.

After a pause, one of his sailors handed him a strange crossbow and a few arrows, while another arranged a painted target in front of him. Valka noticed a lever and a tall box protruding from the crossbow, above the place where one would usually load an arrow.

Chaghatai spun and aimed at the target, racking the lever back and forth. A sudden volley of arrows shot out, and Andor's guards flinched nervously. After Chaghatai ran out of shots, he opened the box, loaded a few arrows, and then immediately began firing again. He unleashed another storm on his target, and upon finishing, he turned back to Andor. He held up the weapon, looking satisfied.

"The repeating crossbow," he announced. "The lever mechanism and gravity-fed magazine combine the action of drawing, loading, and shooting the bow into a one-handed movement, enabling the user to fire at a much higher rate of fire than your normal crossbows can."

Andor was unfazed. "But not with nearly as much force or accuracy as my metal crossbows and windlasses can achieve, I see that."

"You can fire ten shots and reload this special crossbow in the time it takes to wind up and fire a normal crossbow _once_," Chaghatai countered. "We cover the tips with poisons or tranquilizers to make up for the weak shots."

"I've seen these kinds of bows before, and let me tell you, they're useless against dragons," Andor said. "Their accuracy and power is horrible. A trained archer with a longbow can achieve a similar rate of fire, albeit with much more range and power, if they hold multiple arrows in their hand. Furthermore, the tranquilizers take too long to act, not unless you've found Grimmel's long-lost Deathgripper venom recipe."

"Fair point, but these things are easy to use and make—even the peasant's housewife can use one, no training required. Just hand these out to your common soldiers, and they will eventually defeat a dragon if you deploy enough of them. There will be some losses, but that's inevitable."

"My people are not expendable, nor are they peasants!" Andor barked. "Their lives are just as valuable as my own."

"Hmph. It's a small price to pay to maintain your reign. How else will you conquer your foes?"

"I _defend_ my island with a well-trained militia. I don't take land by force."

"Well-trained?" Chaghatai frowned. "High training is unnecessary for the common army—it's wasteful for soldiers that will inevitably die in battle."

"Excuse me!" Andor snapped. "The whole point of training is to prevent them from dying in battle!"

Chaghatai raised his voice. "The best way to keep your forces intact is to simply recruit more of them!"

Andor bit his tongue and took a breath to calm himself. It probably wasn't the best idea to get into an argument with a warlord. "Okay, fine. I suppose we have different opinions, considering that I lead an island with a small population, while you rule over the mainlands with much more people."

"Indeed—"

"Now, I would rather not get into a debate over the art of war," Andor interrupted. "Can we change the topic?"

Chaghatai chuckled. "Sure, but, isn't that a bit awkward?"

"We are not friends," Andor said sternly. "I supply you with dragon exports, and in return, none of your men set foot on my island."

"Alright, alright," Chaghatai said. "If you want to change the topic, let's talk about your dragon exports. Say, I heard you figured out how to extract the Deadly Nadder's fire. How did you manage that?"

Valka interrupted on behalf of Andor. "It's a secret."

Andor nodded with her, and Chaghatai grumbled before burrowing his face in his palm. "Okay, maybe we could discuss something else."

Andor nodded. Maybe he could get some information about the latest events by asking Chaghatai a pointed question or two. "I recall that you used to be in an alliance of sorts with two other warlords, Ragnar and Griselda. How are they doing now?"

"They're dead."

"What?"

"Ragnar the Rock was eaten alive during the Battle of Berk, by a horde of Hobgobblers, of all things. They practically ate the deck of his ship out from underneath him."

"Well, that's unfortunate—"

"It wasn't a big loss. He was an impressive, hulking warrior, but about as mature as a child. His troops practically begged for me to take over in his place."

"Er, fine then," Andor said. "What about Griselda the Grevious?"

Chaghatai chucked gruffly. "She and I nearly met our end during the same battle as Ragnar did. While we were fighting the Dragon Riders, a dragon cage slipped and trapped us aboard a sinking ship, but we managed to escape dying. Well, I did. When we began our retreat after the Riders' victory and Grimmel's death, I learned that Griselda had been planning to kill me and Ragnar in order to take over our fleets. Now, I'm not much of a backstabber like she was, but Ragnar was already gone, so I figured I was next. Ironically, she was the one who ended up with a knife in her back."

"Huh, I don't know what to say about that," Andor said. He shook his head. The conquerors' endless pursuits baffled him—it was all in the pursuit of power. Power over others, power to satisfy their desires to place themselves on top of the world. It was a cruel game, or perhaps a fool's game, that cost too much gold and blood and ultimately ended in death and defeat.

"Andor, it's a dragon-eat-dragon world out there," Chaghatai said. "Sometimes you've got to cut out a path for yourself."

"Well, I can agree with the first part," Andor said. "Now, I'd say that we've done enough good business and talking for one day. Shall we bid farewell and head off for our own affairs?"

"Wait, there's one last thing I want to show you," Chaghatai said, turning to speak to his sailors. They went off to his ships, retrieving something.

Andor saw the previous crossbow demonstration for what it was. Posturing and propaganda. "No thank you, please. I already spend enough resources on my own extravagant weaponry."

"No, you'll definitely appreciate this one. It's a tide-turner, for sure," Chaghatai said coolly as two men emerged from his ships, carrying two narrow boxes. Andor noticed that the boxes featured paintings and carvings of eagles, dragons, and other predators of the sky.

Andor watched Chaghatai's impassive sailors came over, and he cracked a nervous laugh. "Well, what is it?"

Chaghatai's men unslung their boxes and set them down the planks. One box contained a compartment with several tubes inside, while the other came off to reveal a strange object resembling a lance. It could only be described as a long tube with a cone-shaped top, and several fins at the bottom in imitation of a dragon's tailfins.

"My alchemists have discovered 'flaming medicine', as they call it," Chaghatai said. "They named it after the failed search for the nonexistent elixir of longevity, but let me tell you, it's definitely not medicine you'd want to give to anyone other than your enemies."

Andor noticed a few strings trailing out from the bottom of the box and odd lance. A sailor held them with one hand, and a torch in the other.

"'Flaming medicine'?" Andor scoffed. "Let me take a guess. It's a new poison that causes a horrible burning sensation in the victim. Ha!"

The sailor lit the strings.

"No, it's not poison, actually," Chaghatai said. "It's a weapon of war that's so effective in battle, it created an entirely new profession dedicated to making more of them." Suddenly, he ducked and brought his hands up to cover his ears.

The bottom of the lance ignited. A violent, hissing torrent of fire shot out from the bottom of the device, sending it rocketing upward into the sky. It flew up so quickly that Andor lost track of it for a moment until he craned his neck up to watch it rise. His guards took a few steps back, drawing their swords in panic, but there was nothing they could do but watch as the unnatural projectile rose—

It exploded. A colossal, savage fireball blossomed and blocked out a few clouds, throwing streaks of shrapnel into the sky as a great thunderclap shook the air.

Andor backpedaled, ears ringing. "What the—"

The second box on the planks erupted, sending a volley of fire and smoke shooting up into the sky, followed by a horrible, earsplitting cacophony of explosions and shrapnel. A few islanders screamed, but their cries were drowned out by the blasts.

In an instant, Valka and Andor's group retreated off the wharf. Nearby horses in the village went on a stampede at the sudden noises, and some villagers burst out of their homes, thinking their island was under attack. A few militiamen assembled nearby while others went off to load nearby catapults.

Chaghatai turned to look at Andor, barely concealing his smugness. "Behold, the great Fire Lance. Impressive, is it not?"

Andor took a moment to steady himself. He looked around, noticing his distraught guards and islanders looking to him for guidance, before turning back to glare at the warlord with ferocity. "Chaghatai, I distinctly recall warning you in the past not to demonstrate your weaponry on _my _island."

"This display just took place above the water, off of your island. No harm was caused."

Andor scowled, turning to his men to whisper an instruction. His lead guard gawked upon hearing the message.

"You want me to—are you sure?"

"Yes, do it now."

The guard turned to signal to Andor's archers on the rooftops, and they turned to pass the message on. Chaghatai began reciting some speech about his empire's greatness and advanced weaponry, but Andor ignored it until his men signalled back to him. The weapon was ready.

"Chaghatai," Andor interrupted, his expression becoming grim. "Your show of force is impressive, but I will _not_ tolerate such incursions on or near my territory. I have already warned you in the past."

A catapult fired in the distance. A burning object shot over Andor's village, and Valka looked up, spotting a flaming cloth ball above. She tracked it for a moment as it fell towards Chaghatai's ships.

The flames ate through the cloth covering, and the ball burst open. A searing, painfully white fireball engulfed the projectile as it tumbled, leaving a concentrated torrent of sparkles in its wake. Buildings and people on the ground grew another shadow as if illuminated by a second sun. Valka recoiled, recognizing the fire as that of Nadder's fire-extract. The projectile began to arc towards the ships, and she watched in horror, as if the storm of sparkles was a window through which she could see a dead future, a future where the spark of dragonkind was entrapped and weaponized forever.

The fireball fell out of the sky and struck the water next to the docks. Upon impact, the flames erupted, sending a geyser of hot water sweeping over Chaghatai's men. None of them were seriously hurt, but it was enough to spook them.

And then there was a pause.

Valka looked around, and she suddenly found her staff in her hands when she saw what was happening. Andor's islanders and Chaghatai's sailors were lined up on opposite sides of the docks in a showdown, weapons drawn.

A cacophony of silence hung in the air as the standoff dragged on. For a moment, Valka thought a battle was about to break out, until she looked at Andor. Everyone had their weapons drawn except for him. He did not carry a sword.

"That was a warning shot, Chaghatai."

A beat passed.

"I understand."

Chaghatai's acknowledgement defused the tension somewhat, and the sailors and islanders alike relaxed their postures and weapons a little.

"I have been developing my own weapons as well," Andor said. "As you may have figured, the one you just saw is an anti-ship weapon that generates blazing infernos that cannot be put out with water."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Let me get this straight; I do not wish to fight you, but I do request and demand that you do not disrupt the peace on my island."

"Alright," Chaghatai said. "I won't do that again."

The islanders and sailors around them relaxed further, and some semblance of normal life returned to the village. Andor sighed, partly in relief and in frustration. He had finally earned the respect of the warlord before him, but only after showing his mettle and provoking a near life-and-death confrontation.

Andor looked at Chaghatai for a long time as their guards put away their weapons. Eventually, he addressed the warlord, speaking with a firm tone. "If you don't have any other important activities or unfinished business, I'd say that you should leave when your ships are ready. If you need to purchase anything to restock your vessels, ask for Skuf or any of my other deputies, and they'll help."

Chaghatai nodded, and turned to walk back to his boats, giving Valka one last look as he did. Valka blew a sigh of relief as he left, and she moved to holster her rattle-staff. But then her fading anxiety caused her to fumble, and she dropped the staff. It fell and struck the planks with a signature rattling noise.

Chaghatai stood bolt upright and froze. He whirled around, saw Valka's staff, and marched back towards her and Andor.

"Andor, there's one last thing I need to tell you," he said. He turned to Valka. "Scale-Stalker, I think I know you. Your voice and mannerisms are too familiar." He turned back to Andor. "Did you see how she was inspecting that Night Fury you bought earlier? I know this woman. Scale-Stalker is a Dragon Rider from Berk, and she rides a four-winged Stormcut—"

"Nonsense!" Andor barked. "I have had enough of your insolence! First you disrupt the peace on my island, and now you're trying to oust one of my most loyal traders! Why in the name of Thor's Beard are you doing this—"

Andor heard a scuffle from behind, and halted mid-sentence. He and his guards turned to look around, confused.

Scale-Stalker was gone.

* * *

Valka turned and ran, breaking out of Andor's escort before things got worse. She had seized the advantage of surprise and fled, as she could not risk getting stuck in a bad situation this far from home. Besides, she had seen and heard enough bad news for a lifetime, and Berk needed to know.

"Scale-Stalker, what's the matter?! Where are you going?" Andor cried. A few guards called after her until they realized what she was doing, and they began chasing.

Valka ignored them and pumped her legs faster. Thankfully, they weren't catching up to her as they were just as burdened by their armour as she was by her cloak and scales.

She angled for the streets that lead uphill, towards the uninhabited peaks and hilltops of the island where safety was. Cloudjumper could not rescue her here, not in the middle of a village with dense defences and streets, and she needed to reach his hiding place in order to escape. But Andor's people had horses, and the hills were distant. It would only be a matter of time before they caught her if she couldn't evade them.

She scanned her surroundings as she weaved through the streets and crowds. This part of the village was close to the docks, the hub of commerce, and was densely packed as a result. Some buildings sported multiple floors and balconies, and many hardly had enough room between themselves for a person to squeeze through. A plan took shape in her mind.

And it was not a moment too soon before she heard hoofbeats up ahead. A horseman came barreling around a corner further ahead, charging right at her. She dashed for an alley and made it just in time, the horse skidding to a stop at the narrow entrance behind her.

"Odin damn it!" the rider cursed, before addressing the other pursuers behind himself. "You lads, come here! Make sure she doesn't come out this way while I loop around to the other side."

Valka rushed down and out of the alley, finding an entrance to a building with two floors and a balcony. She burst in, suddenly finding herself in a shop with a collection of dragon-derived weapons around her, a stairway at the back, and a merchant right in front of her.

"Oh! Scale-Stalker!" the merchant said. "It's good to see you again. You seem to be in an awful hurry—do you have some dragon parts I could buy off of you?"

Valka ran past him for the stairs, accidentally knocking over a few things as she did, much to his distress. She raced up to the second floor and made her way to the balcony before stepping outside.

Someone shouted from below as she came out. Andor's guards were fast approaching.

She took a breath and climbed onto the balcony railing, balancing on the handrail as she drew her staff. She lifted it up to hook onto the roof above, finding a steady grip and heaving herself up with a grunt. After climbing up, she took a moment to look around, realizing that she had a great vantage point from atop the merchant's shop. From here she could see the habour, and in the other direction, the hill that led to Cloudjumper's hiding place. To freedom.

She walked over to the edge of the roof, looking down into the narrow alley she had just ran through. Andor's men were storming it and the building below, searching the area for any trace of her. She smiled. They did not know that she had climbed up here just yet.

She turned her focus to the building across the alleyway. It was another two-floor building just like the one she stood on, and it was tantalizingly close.

She took a few steps back before running forward and jumping. Clearing the gap, she continued running, finding another building and easily traversable gap to leap across. She kept going, and eventually came across a building that was much lower and further away than the one she now stood on, requiring a daring jump.

She sized up the gap before herself, and grinned. This was child's play compared to hopping from one airborne dragon to the next at her old dragon sanctuary, many years ago.

She pulled back to run again, and held out her staff in front of herself as she lept. She fell short of the roof ahead, but caught the edge with the hook of her staff, using her feet to absorb her momentum against the side of the building. She ended up in a hanging position against the wall, and hauled herself up onto the roof.

She took another look at her surroundings. Andor's chasers had completely lost track of her and were nowhere to be seen. While they had mobilized efficiently to capture her, they could not predict that she would climb to the rooftops to escape, nor did they know that she had years of experience in jumping from one place to another in a living nest of dragons.

She paused to rest and laughed for a moment. After catching her breath, she got up and flew over a few more rooftops with feral agility until she reached a gap she could not cross, and then lowered herself down to the ground with the help of her staff. She dropped down with a roll and began jogging for the hills, cutting through the side streets to avoid detection.

* * *

Valka reached the summit of the hills and leaned over, chest heaving. She made it.

But not quite. As soon as she stopped running and started walking, the galloping noise of approaching horses rose over her footsteps.

Quickly, she rushed over to a nearby clifftop and swung her staff several times, producing a summoning whistle. A bellow shook the air, and a red-and-orange Stormcutter shot out from a cave at the base of the cliff. It was no dragon other than Cloudjumper himself.

"Cloudjumper! Hurry!" Valka cried. He looked up and acknowledged her plea with a roar, pumping his four wings as hard as he could to close the distance.

And then horses and men came over the hill from behind, spotting her and charging. She was out of time. They would reach her before Cloudjumper.

But then an insane idea entered her mind, and she leaned over the ledge to look to Cloudjumper. _I'm going to jump._

And then Valka launched herself off the ledge, throwing out her arms and falling and tumbling into Cloudjumper's open claws.

* * *

**A\N:**

Whew! That was a long chapter, and an intense one at that.

Onto the actual chapter notes:

-According to the HTTYD wiki, the Deadly Nadder's fire type is magnesium. Magnesium fires burn with extreme heat and brightness and react violently with water, hence the unique properties of "Nadder's fire-extract".

-Chaghatai's "Fire Lances" are weaponized fireworks. "Flaming medicine" is the literal translation of the Chinese word for gunpowder, and it was invented around the time the Vikings were active in Europe. While gunpowder didn't spread to real-life Europe until a few centuries later, it could've already reached the Vikings in the HTTYD universe. One of the warlords from the third film, Chaghatai, made it to Berk (Northern Europe), and the wiki states that he's from Asia. So, gunpowder is here.


End file.
